Letters to Heaven
by CharFire
Summary: It's been nineteen years since Fred Weasley's death, and George is still heartbroken. But what he has yet to find out is that he is not the only one. Will a box full of letters addressed to his brother be able to help him heal after all this time?
1. Letters

**A/N: This was an idea that I had a while ago, and finally I've had the time and inspiration to write it out. Please note that I am crying as I write every single chapter. Seriously.**

 **I am obsessed with Fred and George, and clearly the end of Deathly Hallows was kind of traumatic for me. So here is my resolution. I don't own any of the characters or Harry Potter and such, etc.**

 **Review please!**

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His mom had suggested that they all try. She even sent owls to friends, people who survived the war, anyone who had ever met or had ever known Fred, and asked them all to try.

It had been nearly nineteen years since that awful, wretched day, and nearly nineteen years that George Weasley has tried to live without his other half. Some days he was close to successful. But most days, on days that reminded him of his twin brother, days like today…. he felt like he was dying. Today was the anniversary of Fred Weasley's death in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Now, here he was, back home again where their lives had begin together. His family had gotten together today in memoriam for Fred and Remus and Tonks and those who had died nineteen years ago today. They were all downstairs, actually, trying to hold it together as long as they could until everyone went their separate ways to grieve and break all over again because time really didn't heal the wounds. George knew that better than anyone.

He was sitting, alone, in their old room looking at all the remnants of their seemingly boundless childhood, their pranking and experiments that had all started in this one tiny bedroom with the two twin beds. All those things seemed a lifetime ago, and not even a part of his life anymore. Almost as if it was part of a Muggle movie he might have seen, or possibly a dream. But as George looked around, every thing triggered a vivid memory, and he knew he wasn't dreaming. His eyes scanned over the black scorch marks on the ceiling from the time when they had been attempting their trial runs of their signature fireworks, and then down to the discolored stain on the carpet in the corner from their first, utterly misguided batch of Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats. George looked over to the cramped desk in the corner of the room that was covered in piles and piles of product designs and marketing ideas and order placements…until he finally was staring across the room, at the furthest wall. The one that held a lifetime of memories in smiling, moving photographs. Fred was in every single one of them, his arm slung around a tiny, picture-copy George.

The real George was alone, now, and instead of his brother beside him, all he had was a box. This box, sitting on his brother's bed. George sighed and ran a hand over the side, over the lid, feeling the smooth worn wood of the packaging. His mum had told him that he needed closure, and that he needed to know that he wasn't the only one grieving Fred's death. Then, maybe, he'd be able to heal, if just a little bit.

And that leaves him with a box of letters. Molly Weasley had written and asked everyone to write letters and express their grief at this time. But not to her, no. Or to George, or anyone else in the current Weasley clan. No, these were letters to heaven.

Letters to Fred.

His mum had given him the box earlier that morning and told him to take some time to read them all. She said they were as much for him as they were for Fred. She said it might help. George didn't need help. He needed his brother back. Slowly, George raised the lid off the box, and immediately he had to stifle a sob. He was not expecting this…though; he really shouldn't have been surprised. It had been Fred, after all.

The box was filled to the brim with parchment letters, various scrawls visible on various envelopes, all saying " _To Fred"._ There must have been close to thirty or forty letters in there. George sniffed, knowing that he was close to crying fully and trying to stave off that final breakdown, and reached a trembling hand inside, pulling out the topmost letter. They were addressed to Fred, every one, but he wasn't here to read them, so it was up to his other half to open all the messages – the goodbyes, the "I'm-so-sorry's", the thank-yous, and the grief that came with it all.

Slowly, with a deep steadying breath, George slid his finger to unclasp the wax seal, slid the parchment letter free, and unfolded the first letter.


	2. Bill Weasley's Letter

**A/N: So quick heads up: the chapters are going to be formatted as the letters that George is reading, and they're going to be from different characters, obviously. They are going to be rather short. Hopefully this means more updates.**

 **I am a wreck emotionally from writing this, so I really hope you guys like it. Please review!**

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 _Freddie,_

 _I remember the day you were born: April 1_ _st_ _, of course. Anything else would be absolutely boring, especially for the Weasley Wonder Twins. That's what you were, Fred. A wonder. And then came George, and Mum laid you down together and you've been nearly inseparable ever since. I remember thinking that my job as big brother (eldest brother, really, what with three of us already) was going to be whole lots harder with you two._

 _I remember when you spoke your first word ("George" –his first word was "Fred"). I remember your first bout of accidental magic (levitating the cat). I remember the day I taught you to de-gnome the garden, and the day I taught you how to ride your first broomstick, and you and George thought I was so much fun. When I first got that fang earring, you thought I was so cool. The "bestest biggest brother", you called me that, you did. You and George always smiling those crooked mischievous smiles of yours, and off you'd go, together, and the rest of us would give anything to be a part of your little world, just for a second._

 _I remember your first day coming onto Platform 9 ¾ , your first day leaving for Hogwarts. I remember being to proud to hear that you made it into Gryffindor. I remember Mum sending you and George a Howler third week into term because you had somehow managed to release two dozen Doxies from the DADA classroom and into the Great Hall. I still don't know how you did that. Those things are vicious._

 _I remember hearing that you made the Quidditch team, you and George, and as Beaters, too! I couldn't wait to see your first match. I remember hearing about you hustling Ludo Bagman out of his money at the World Cup, and I was incredibly proud._

 _You were the one who told me to make a move with Fleur Delacour. I never would have fallen in love, married her, or had Victoire – our eldest daughter – and certainly not Dominique or Louis, if not for you. Thank you, little brother._

 _I remember going to the opening day of your new joke shop, being the first in line, and dragging everyone I could catch from work to come as well. I remember sitting in the hospital wing after Fenrir attacked me during the first Hogwarts battle, holding your hand while you cried over me. I remember your entire life, Fred. But I wasn't prepared to remember your death._

 _Forever and always, I am proud of you. I love you, Fred._

 _Your biggest brother,_

 _Bill._


	3. Charlie Weasley's Letter

**A/N: New chapter! I told you, these are short. Also, since these are going to be formatted as letters, they're going to move rather quickly.**

 **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters, etc. Please review!**

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 _Fred,_

 _When I first got the job to study dragons over in Romania, Mum wasn't pleased. She thought it was too dangerous, and she though I'd end up looking like Bill with his long hair and fang earrings and leather jacket and such. Dad wasn't too thrilled either – he probably thought I'd turn out like Hagrid with his affinity for things that could kill him. Percy wasn't really interested, to be honest, and Ron and Ginny were too young to understand. But you and George…. you were so excited. You thought I was so cool, going to work with dragons. I remember, the day before I left, you came up and asked me to send you a souvenir so I wouldn't forget me. And George said to not forget you two. As if I could even try! So when I got there, the first thing I did was collect a few samples of dragon scales and send them to my two little twin brothers. And you sent me back a Howler – with you two screaming your heads off ecstatically. I laughed so hard, I scared some of the baby Ridgebacks I was with._

 _Oh, Fred. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. Bastard that I am, I was too busy in Romania to even think of coming back to England to fight. I knew that the war was going on. Every wizard knew. And I wanted to come over. Of course I did – my entire family was risking their lives to fight with Harry and to fight against Voldemort for the future of the Wizarding World and I was across the world working. Granted, Mum had written to me and told me not to come – that I was safer with my dragons than in the war, and she wouldn't have to worry about losing me. But there were still ten of you I was worried about. It was too much to hope that all of you would make it out safe. But I stayed where I was._

 _I wish I hadn't listened to her. Too late, I arrived at Hogwarts, after the battle had ended and I knew that I had to be there – to see for myself. You were already dead and gone, Fred, and that's harsh to say, but it was such a blow to me, I nearly broke down there in the entrance hall._

 _I never even got to say goodbye. The last time I had seen you, face to face, it was before the World Cup. That was three years before the battle, at least, and I never really say you again. I didn't even make it to your shop opening because I was too bus extracting some of the Himalayan Blue Smoke venom for one of your products._

 _I never got to tell you, Fred, how much I loved you because I always assumed that there would be a next time. I've never made that mistake since then, and I'm so sorry that you were the one who had to pay that price for me to learn this horrible lesson._

 _Dead. You're dead. And I was too late to say anything, but I'm saying it now Freddie._

 _Goodbye,_

 _Charlie_


	4. Percy Weasley's Letter

**A/N: More crying and another chapter. I do not own Harry Potter, characters, places, etc. Please review!**

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George sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the tears that had slowly and silently run down his face without his notice. He was only two letters in, and he was already a mess. How was he supposed to get through the next thirty? George almost wished he could leave now, find Bill and Charlie, and hold them and have them hold him and he wished that that would be enough. But he knew it wouldn't be, not for him. The one-eared twin placed the second letter down gently on the bed beside him, right on top of Bill's, and pulled out the next letter. Right away, George recognized the handwriting, and his breath caught. He already knew what it was going to say, and he didn't know if he could make it through. But he had to. For Fred.

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 _Fred,_

 _You will never know how hard it was for me to be your big brother. Let me explain. Bill and Charlie were the cool older brothers with cool jobs and ambitions and they taught you to do cool things, like how to fly a broomstick and how to degnome the garden and they sent you cool things like dragon scales and pictures from across the world. They still are pretty cool, although Bill's a father now and he's matured a bit. Charlie's still hanging with his dragons, though. Thought you'd like to know that._

 _Anyway, I was the third eldest, your third big brother. And I wasn't cool, not by a long shot. I valued school and education and money and the Ministry and all those unimportant things, and I was boring to you. I didn't know how to be someone you looked up to. And you two were so much cooler and happier and easy-going and people liked you because they thought you were all those things and more. I was a prat, Fred, and you and George always told me that but I didn't know how right you were until before the battle at Hogwarts. And then you did the most amazing thing: you forgave me. After all the horrible things I've done – almost disowning my own family – you forgave me. You laughed with me. And then you were gone._

 _Do you blame me? You should, although George says he doesn't. He says that I made you smile – made you laugh in your last moments, and he said that he was thankful to me for that, for giving you a bit of happiness. But how could I have? I was a prat, a git, a Humongous Bighead. Yet you forgave me, and laughed at my ill-attempt at a joke as I quit under Minister Pius Thickness, as I fought beside you when the explosion went off – and you died. You died, and we had only barely become brothers again. George and I have made amends, though, which helps a lot._

 _Merlin, do I miss you, Fred. I was such a pompous ass, and a royal screw-up as a big brother when you compare me to Bill and Charlie. But you…you were a brilliant little brother._

 _Love your bigheaded brother,_

 _Percy._


	5. Arthur and Molly Weasley's Letters

**A/N: Another update? I'm on a roll here guys. A little feedback would be greatly appreciated. So don't be afraid to review! Sorry everything is so sad.**

 **Once again, I do not own Harry Potter and all such things related to it.**

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George didn't want to read his father's letter. That was the one he had picked up next, and it proved to be more daunting than Percy's was. George never knew what it was his parents could be feeling with Fred's death; he assumed that they felt somewhat similar to how he did, though it could never be worse. It wasn't until he had gotten married and had his son that he realized that it was incredibly terrifying to think of losing someone that was such an intricate part of you, and not in the way that a brother or sister was. A son was literally a tiny piece of your soul and heart come into the world and entrusted to you to take care of and see through all the possible struggles of life. George knew that now, and he had the vaguest idea of how his father and mother must have felt, what they do feel, and in no way did he wish to read all of that in a letter.

But once again, it wasn't up to him. It was for Fred, and he wasn't here to do this, so George was entrusted as the message keeper. Although, if Fred was here, these letters wouldn't exist and the last nineteen years of life would have been entirely different. Hell, he wouldn't be married now if Fred was here. Whatever Merlin's plans for them, it had come to this, the way things are, and now here he was, faced with a box of letters, and one in his hand, three beside him. George lifted up the seal and pulled out, to his surprise, not one, but two separate letters. One was clearly his father, and the other, to George's dismay, was his mother. They had put theirs together. Always together. Just like he and Fred used to be. With a heavier sigh than before, George chose his father's letter first and opened to the first piece of parchment.

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 _My son Fred,_

 _Don't let your mother know, although she may already considering she is a crack shot of a woman (you should have seen her fight Bellatrix Lestrange! She has been dying to hand it to that awful witch since school together, and she finally got her revenge! Killed her right on the spot! Brilliant!) Anyways, what I was trying to say was that when you, George and Ron took the car and went to Surrey to rescue Harry from his aunt and uncle's, I thought that was bloody fantastic of you boys. You handled the car like a pro, son, and that was more to me than any O.W.L.S you could have taken._

 _I was also extremely proud of you boys for taking that risk betting with Ludo Bagman. He's a sharp one, but I think we all learned that day that two heads are better than one, and you two boys certainly showed him that alright._

 _When you opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, I think I became the happiest father in the world. Don't tell Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, or Ginny. Don't tell Molly, either. You know how she gets. Anyways, you became a huge success, bigger than nay of us could have ever imagined for you two. You were always good at keeping the laughter alive, weren't you? We needed it then, Fred, but never more than right now._

 _Now I know how Amos Diggory felt when Cedric didn't make it through the Triwizard Tournament._

 _Oh, my boy. My son. What I would do to go back to when you slipped Harry's cousin that Tongue Ton Toffee, or back to the first time you set your room (and the cat) on fire, or back to when you still called me Daddy, and we'd set you and George off on your little beginners broomsticks in the garden. I wish I could go back to when you and George were laughing together, always together. When it was still "Fred and George" and you were happy. I hope you were happy. Your mother and I didn't have much, but we tried. Know that we tried, Fred._

 _Dad_

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George let out a shaky breath, knowing that the spots of water on the parchment were only partly from his own tears, and partly from the ones his father had shed writing this letter. He didn't know if he could face the one his mother wrote, although it looked shorter than the one Arthur Weasley had written.

 _What's the harm in a piece of paper? George, you bugger, don't make me regret dying for you if you're too chicken to read the heartfelt words of my goodbyes. Come on!_

George laughed. Sometimes he could have sworn that he heard Fred where his missing ear was (maybe they were together) and he sometimes thought he could sill hear his brother laughing and talking to him, saying things like that, encouraging him not to let depression take him over. George reached for the other piece of paper on his lap, placing his father's over Percy's.

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 _My baby boy,_

 _Considering the day you were born, when the Healer at Saint Mungo's told me that there was another baby, a twin baby boy to you, no less, I though it must be some elaborate joke to induce an early heart attack. It was your very first act of mischief with your brother, if I do say so myself, which should have been a warning to us all. But then I held you in m arms, the two of you together, and I knew it was no trick. A mother always knows. You two were my babies, my two of a kind boys. You still are my sweet babies._

 _I love you so much, Freddie. After so long, you would think the pain would fade. It never does, not for a mother, or a father, or a brother or sister. Even the nieces and nephews you have never met have been changed and saddened by the loss of you._

 _He misses you, too, love. Could you find someway to let him know that you're okay? That's my boy. I'm so proud of you, dear. Always._

 _\- Mum_

 _P.S: Don't go blowing up anything up there. I don't need a toilet seat from heaven, thank you very much._

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George had to laugh at the little note scrawled at the bottom of the page. His mother just had to bring up the joke from the platform way back in their third year when he and Fred had promised to send Ginny, who hadn't yet started Hogwarts, a genuine toilet seat from the boys bathroom at the school. George grinned at the image of ghost Fred, experimentally trying to blow up and then send a ghostly toilet seat from the great beyond. Actually, he wouldn't mind getting something from Fred. Anything, really, so long as it was from him.

"Ah, Freddie. Look at all this." George laid down his mum's letter and reached to pull out the next one: it was from his only little brother, Ronald.


	6. Ron Weasley's Letter

**A/N: Back again with more sad Weasley fluff! I don't why I'm so inspired to write these things. They only make me cry.**

 **Please continue to review!**

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 _Fred,_

 _First off, I want to let you know that I forgive you for turning my teddy bear into a spider when I was three years old. Also for pushing me off my training broomstick. And for burning a hole in my tongue with that Acid Pop. And not to mention when you turned all my Chudley Cannons memorabilia bright purple and it wouldn't reverse for a month. I didn't mean it when I said I hated you. Also, for the time when you snuck one of the gnomes from the garden into my bed, or the time when you convinced me that the ghoul in the attic was slowly making his way down into my bedroom at night and stealing my hair, or the time you charmed all of my clothes to shrink every time I moved. I could go on and on with the things you and George have done to me over the years._

 _But I want to say that I forgive you, because I don't think I ever did in those actual moments. I forgive you for all the teasing, poking, prodding and all around torment you two have dealt me over the years. Truth be told, I never really minded all that much. I actually kind of liked it that you took the time to bully your baby brother. I am the baby brother of the entire family. I get all the old things of everyone, and everyone tries to pay me attention, but I am the youngest boy, so nothing special really. Bill and Charlie are all exciting, Percy is the school boy, and you two are the jokesters and pranksters, and Ginny is the only girl. So when you guys decided that tackling "Ickle Ronnykins", I never minded all that much cause it meant you cared. And I loved you two for it. You were my big brothers, and you made sure I knew that._

 _I married Hermione, you know. Course you do, you wouldn't have missed your baby brother's wedding would you? No. I mean, come on, I snagged Hermione! Hermione Granger agreed to marry me. Did you ever think?! I actually don't want to know what you thought on this particular subject. It was probably insulting._

 _I have a daughter, Rose, and she just started school with Albus Severus, Harry's second son. Can you believe that? He's got an older boy, James, and we both have youngest's as well. Hugo is our second, and he'll be starting school in two years with Harry and Ginny's daughter, Lily Luna. Would you believe that? I'm a dad, Fred. And to Hermione's kids! I can't get over that, and it's been, like almost seventeen years._

 _I miss you, Fred. Bloody hell, we all do. But I know you're up there with Tonks and Dumbledore, and the Marauders, Freddie! Are you having fun with Padfoot and Moony and Prongs? You know, Harry's dad is Prongs. And Moony was Remus, and Padfoot was Sirius! Tell them all hello from us, and keep and eye on them for Harry. And you've got Lily, Harry's mum, up there. I bet she's watching over you until we can catch up to you, right? At least wait for George. He deserves that much from you now._

 _I love you, Fred. I know I didn't say it enough, if at all, but it's true. I do._

 _Your little brother,_

 _Ron_


	7. Ginny Weasley's Letter

**A/N: Okay, I've been trying to make these chapters come out a little longer than what I've been doing. It's hard, guys, but I'm trying. I write these out on paper before I write so a lot of times, I think I have more than I actually do.**

 **Anyways, here is another chapter! I hope you guys enjoy! And review!**

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George rubbed his face tiredly, placing his younger brother's letter off to the side with Bill's and Charlie's and Mum and Dad's and Percy's letters. He was never going to make it through them all. George looked at the small box at his side, wondering how such a plain thing could hold so much grief and sorrow and might-have-beens. And he knew that he hadn't even scratched the surface yet. This was only his family, here, but clearly the box contained far more letters than the people in their little clan.

George reached a hand to the box. He was tempted to simply dump them all out, read the signatures to see who else was writing to a twenty year old wizard who had barely done anything to be recognized for. He was also tempted to toss the bloody things out the window or into a small fire, angry and disgusted at the thought of a stranger trying to write insincere condolences and apologies to his brother, who, George thought with some satisfaction, would have told them all to sod off.

But instead, George Weasley simply sighed again and touched the next letter on the pile. Unsurprisingly, George saw the writing scrawled on the envelope as his little sister, Ginny's. Immediately, he relaxed. Ginny was never one for sappy emotional declarations, even on paper. She was always blunt and direct – a side effect from living in a hovel of boys. Growing up with six older brothers, she had learned early on that crying or whining or being shy was going to get her no where in The Burrow. Ginny was stronger than the rest of them. George slit the seal and slid out her letter to read.

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 _First off, thanks for never calling me Ginerva. I think "Ginny" suits me a whole lot more than that fancy thing. Yes, I know it's a family name, but, still, at least your names are easy and common and rather normal. Imagine me starting Hogwarts with a name like Ginerva Weasley! Imagine me trying to spell that when I was little, or learning to pronounce it! But you two, you rescued me from Mum's sentimentality by simply taking one look at your amazing little sister and called me "Ginny". Her name is Ginny, you said. And then the other boys started calling me that until I answered to that name instead of the one Mum gave me. And no matter how hard she or Aunt Muriel tried, the shortened name stuck, thank God. Because of you._

 _I told "The Golden Trio" once that you can believe anything is possible if you've got enough nerve. I believe that because of you and George, Fred. As the only girl in a family of six older brothers, I was treated differently than the rest of you lugs – at first. I was the baby, Mum's precious girl and Dad's princess, the little sister with all the big bad brothers to teach me and help me and protect me. Bill and Charlie haven't changed all that much, have they? I mean, they love me and they see me as their baby sister always and they've never lost their protective touch, even though I'm a grown woman now with three children to call her own. Plus they've always looked the role of intimidating, haven't they? What with the scars and the long hair and the fang earring and the leather everything and the burns and all that jazz._

 _Then, there's Ron and Percy, who were constantly talking about setting examples for me for everything. Ron was never that bad (except briefly in my fifth year when I was dating Dean Thomas – and that was silly in and of itself, seeing as he and Seamus – well, you know) but Ron was always better than Percy because he was the youngest, too, in a way. The youngest boy. Percy always thought that it was his job to set an example of fine wizardry and success for me. He was a prat, wasn't he? Not so much anymore, don't worry._

 _But then you and George…you two were – are – my favorites. Sure, you protected me and looked out for me like big brothers do. But you were also the first to let me on your broomstick – that Cleansweep Five – and taught me to play Quidditch. You taught me how to pull pranks and how to lie without getting caught. You taught me that I was stronger than I knew, and that I could do anything I wanted to and to be confidant and believe in myself. You and George are the reason I am who I am, and I never told you that, or how much I looked up to you, and looked_ to _you to make me smile when I felt like screaming or crying._

 _I married Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, married me! I felt you there, at the ceremony. Of course, you wouldn't have missed your baby sister's wedding. It was beautiful, and we held it right where Fleur and Bill had theirs, and this time nothing bad happened and everyone was happy and Mum was crying and Harry and I got married._

 _I danced with George twice, so I could pretend for a minute that you were still here, dancing one dance with me._

 _Don't think for a minute that I've gone soft. I can still whip out a nasty Bat-Bogey Hex if I need to. This letter means nothing – it's just me talking to you, Fred. Like old times._

 _Ginny._

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George stared at the thin, girlish signature at the end of the page, thoroughly stunned. He blinked once, then a second time, and then he was reaching up to wipe at his face furiously, trying to quell the new surge of tears.

"Dammit, Ginny." He muttered, but he smiling a little as he did it, laying his little sister's letter on top of his opened pile. "I underestimated you, little sister. I won't, ever again."

He felt different, almost refreshed after reading her letter. He'd like to think he had gained a little sense of closure from reading her piece, but he also knew, what with Ginny being Ginny and all that, growing up with him and Fred for her whole life, he wouldn't have put it past her to charm the paper with a Cheering Charm or Happiness Hex for him, just for a little while. At the very least, she had slipped in a Rejuvenation Spell.

George looked again at the box at his side, with a new letter, a new story, a new set of memories of Fred. To his surprise, George immediately recognized the handwriting as his sister-in-law and longtime friend, Hermione Granger-Weasley. She had chosen to keep her muggleborn name when she married Ron, but she added his name to mark her place in their world. George smiled wider and quickly took up her letter, which was heftier than the others. Of course. With small shake of his head, George opened Hermione's letter.


	8. Hermione Granger's Letter

**A/N: And I have managed to give you lovely followers another chapter! I really should be doing my homework. I'm so far behind it's not even funny anymore. Sorry this is shorter than I thought it was going to be.**

 **Please review!**

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 _Dear Fred,_

 _I would firstly like to apologize to you, and George, though I can easily tell him in person, obviously. Oh God, that sounds absolutely horrid, doesn't it? And I can't scratch it out because the ink might run_ again _and ruin everything, since those marks are hideous and I would simply have to start over, but your mother made it very clear that she needs these letters now, but it has to be perfect and oh! Oh, I'm rambling now, aren't I? Never mind it all, Fred. At the very least it might make you laugh._

 _Anyway, I want to apologize for all the times I called you guys reckless and immature and foolish, because you weren't. Not all the time, anyway. You were geniuses in your own right, and I told you that you wouldn't amount to anything because you weren't studying for N.E.W.T.S and O.W.L.S. As if those things were the most important things in life! Believe me, since then, I've sorted out m priorities, but before, I was so – well, I was like Percy, wasn't I? I am sorry for that, not that being like your elder brother, who happens to be my brother-in-law now anyway, is a bad thing. He was just… difficult in school. And out of school. Merlin, I'm rambling again._

 _Back to my apology, I also wish to say that I am so sorry that I said you were wasting your time with pranks and joke products that, personally, I found cruel and dangerous half the time. I mean, you nearly killed yourselves with the explosions, and Harry's cousin Dudley with that experimental candy. However, the skill you two had (have) is remarkable. I wish I had told you that I actually loved how you made people laugh when we were living in a nightmare. You and George could always make people smile in a matter of seconds. George hardly does that anymore, except now and then with his son, Fred. You can imagine why._

 _I married Ron, you know. I'm as surprised as you, but we actually became very close before and after the war. He helped me find my parents in Australia once things had calmed down, and, can you believe this, he asked my father for his permission to marry me. Ron, the prat, hadn't even asked me yet, and we hadn't been together for a full year! Granted, we've known each other since we were eleven, but still. I spent the next three years waiting for your git of a brother to propose. But I said yes in the end. I kept my name, though, so that the name Granger – a muggleborn name – can stay in the history books of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World._

 _We have a daughter, Rose, and a son, Hugo. I bet you'll get their letters, soon, as well. Harry and Ginny tied the knot and they have three beautiful children – James, Albus, and Lily. I know what you're thinking, but actually Ginny named two of the kids. Surprising, considering her choices of Arnold the Pygmypuff and poor little Pigwidgeon._

 _Oh Fred. I'm sorry I was such a stick in the mud most of the time. I hope you know that I thought you a dear friend – a brother. You and George were the ones who hexed Pansy Parkinson when she called me names in second year. You welcomed me into your home and listened to me spout facts of all things. You comforted me when Rita Skeeter got vicious, or when Ron was a bloody idiot. You tried to teach me to fly (a valiant effort) and you took me to Saint Mungo's when I promptly fell and shattered my wrist._

 _You were truly brilliant, Fred. I'll miss you as long as time stands._

 _With much love,_

 _Hermione Granger – Weasley_

* * *

George smiled sadly as he reached the end of his sister-in-law's letter. Hermione always had a way with words, and this letter was no exception. He could tell she had tried to make it light and add humor, as well as limit her scolding and bossy nature. George was sure she had spent a long time on this, and he reminded himself to talk to her when he was finished here later. But for now, he laid her own apology aside and sought out the next.

"Well, well, well." George pulled another greyish white envelope from the box. "Harry Potter. I should have guessed you'd be the one to follow."

Harry's scrawl was a dearly familiar one, and one George had entirely expected. So he broke the seal for what seemed the tenth time now and pulled out his friend's letter – his brother-in-law, his sister's husband's letter. For Harry had joined the family long before he married Ginny. George liked to think it was the day they met on the train, when Ron sat with the boy who had nothing. That was when everything changed. And that was why he held this letter now.


	9. Harry Potter's Letter

**A/N: So I'm writing this at school in the middle of my creative writing class because I'm a seminar student and I have nothing to do. Props to my teacher for letting me use his computer while he teaches!**

isabel380: Bravi! Bravi! Bravissimi! Magnifico!

potterhead0716: I love it and I must admit, it really made me cry. I also love the Weasley Twins and their pranks. Like you, I was also sad at Fred's death.

AnonymousFan: Okay I flipping love this story. Although, I have a suggestion: Can Fred appear as a vision, or something? And he'll goof off and cause mischief around the house? Thanks for writing

 **So Guest asked me to start answering a few reviews in my author notes. Of course, these are not all the wonderful reviews you guys have left on my story, but these are some of the more recent and I love that you all love what I have to write. Believe me, there is more to come.**

 **I have plenty of characters who will be writing letters eventually. First, I am writing all the ones from the family members before I move onto the friends, such as Lee Jordan, who will eventually be featured. So please be patient!**

 **Thank you all for reviewing, and enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _How are you? I hope you're well, considering… well, considering things. I hope it didn't hurt, dying. Sirius told me that it was easier than falling asleep, and just as peaceful. You deserve peace, Fred, after all that you did here for us._

 _Is my mum taking care of you? I mean, it only makes sense seeing as your mother took care of me my whole life (or at least since age eleven). What about my dad, and Sirius, and Remus? They're the Marauders, you know. And I bet they'd be thrilled to have you as the fourth marauder, seeing as they're one short. And I bet having Tonks and Dumbledore around there with you is fun. You remember how they were at parties. Not that I hope you're enjoying the afterlife and beyond, but I hope you're not suffering._

 _Nineteen years later, and everything has changed. I'm sure you know that I finally married Ginny. You wouldn't have missed her wedding for anything. She's great, isn't she? I mean, we have three children together, and Ginny surprised me by naming our first son James Sirius. I love her, Fred. Then , of course, we already had Teddy Lupin as an adopted son, seeing as I'm his godfather and all. When our second (or third depending on how you count Teddy) son was born, this time I got to name him. I named him Albus Severus. I know – strange name for a child, but those two great wizards deserve to be remembered in name as well as in title, more than the deeds they did. And then when Ginny got pregnant for the third time, my first thought was that we were going to keep going until we have a girl , like your mum did. But then we did have a girl, and Ginny surprised me again by naming her Lily. Lily Luna. My little girl. Merlin, do I love my girls, Fred._

 _I honestly don't know what else to say here except that I'm sorry. I am so sorry, Fred. Everyone, Mum and George and everyone, tells me that it wasn't my fault, that it was Voldemort's and all his followers, but I don't believe them. You were my family, Fred, and the way things go for me, I always end up hurting my family and getting them killed. I was lucky in some cases (Ginny was possessed her first year, Hermione was tortured by Bellatrix,) and they lived, but they were changed. But everyone else – parents died to save me, Sirius became a fugitive and died coming to save me, Cedric died because of me, Hedwig died trying to protect me, Moody died coming to get me, Dumbledore died in front of me, Snape died standing up to Voldemort as a double agent, Remus and Tonks and you and countless others all died in a war fighting for me and with me. It is all my fault and I am so sorry Fred, so sorry. You deserved to live, out of anyone._

 _Nineteen years, yet every single year, on this day, it feels like a fresh wound. It hurts, knowing you're gone. My only hope Is that you've gone on, and maybe, you're happy._

 _Your brother-in-law,_

 _Harry._

 _That git._

George imagined he could hear Fred's voice in his ear, the nearly identical huff of laughter in his mind bringing back a flood of memories of twenty tears of friendship, pranks, laughter, love, family and all those moments they lived and breathed and survived together.

"He certainly is self-righteous, ain't he, Fred?" George said half-heartedly.

 _Yeah, but he's our self-righteous git. He married Ginny and that's good enough for me._

George smiled. He could almost hear the smirk in his brother's imagined voice. It was almost nice.

He placed Harry's letter on the other opened letters, sighing. That had to be everyone. But it wasn't, George knew. The box was still nearly full of unread, unopened letters. George eyed the next one curiously, not recognizing the sloppy scrawl. He pulled the parchment out gingerly, feeling the bumpiness of the ink and wondering who might have sent this one.

Who else cared?


	10. Teddy Lupin's Letter

**A/N: Back again with another letter! So much sadness and feels I can barely take it! And I'm the one writing them all.**

 **Please everyone continue to leave your lovely reviews and remember that I do not own Harry Potter and etc.**

* * *

As soon as George opened the letter, he realized who it was. Of course, this was the boy the entire family had embraced with open arms, a boy much like his godfather. Except of course for the leather jacket, the ear piercing, and the teal blue hair. George nearly laughed out loud at the thought of Remus Lupin's face if he could see his rebellious son, who had really taken to his mother's flair for eccentricities. But on the other hand, the Hufflepuff boy was incredibly caring and smart, and when he made Head Boy, George had never felt more proud of this young wizard, his technically adopted nephew, who embodied both of his parents, and even some of the people he had never known in his life (Sirius and James, for example, but perhaps that came from having a Marauder as a father). Teddy Lupin was an interesting teenager, to say the least. Sometimes it hurt George to watch, because there were times when he was so much like Fred, times when for fun he morphed his hair into a stunning red and George thought that his brother had returned, as he was – a teenager. Those were the times when George had to leave, and it would be a day or so before he could approach the boy again without bursting.

* * *

 _Hey Uncle Fred,_

 _I never got to meet you, but I've heard a lot about you from everyone. And I do mean everyone. Professor McGonnagal and Professor Longbottom tell me stories about you and Uncle George all the time, and Madam Pomfrey mentioned all the injuries you two had from all your experiments, and Hagrid told me all about the times he chased you guys away from the Forbidden Forest. Madam Hooch talks of your Quidditch days quite a lot, how you two were fantastic Beaters. Plus, the entire Potter – Granger – Weasley clan talks about you constantly, and all their friends, and even m Aunt Narcissa (Grandma Andromedra's sister) talks about you. She's quite nicer than I suppose when you knew her. She says that she owes our family, and I quite like her at times. You really were something special, huh, Uncle Fred?_

 _Grandma Weasley asked me to write this, and Dad (well, Uncle Harry but he's my godfather so the name "Uncle" never seemed right really to me, and since I moved in, I had taken to calling him Dad more often seeing as he's the one who basically raised me along with Grandma Andromedra), he told me stories of you and Uncle George and him. He said that writing this would mean a lot to Uncle George. So…hello from your nephew! God – nephew? Whatever. I guess particulars don't really matter anyways. We're family, right? Yeah._

 _Can you do me a favor, Uncle Fred? If my Mom and Dad are there with you, Tonks (Harry said she hated the name Nymphandora) and Remus, can you tell them that I love them? I've heard stories about them, too. I don't care that Dad was a werewolf. Actually, that's pretty awesome. He was a Marauder, and a great teacher, and an Order member and a hero. And Mom – she was an Auror, and Metamorphagus (something she passed to me), an Order member, and a hero alongside my father. I love them so much and I understand why they died, now. I understand. Can you tell them I'm not angry? I swear, I'm not. I am proud o be their son. I am proud to be Teddy Lupin. Can you tell them all that for me? Thank you, Uncle Fred._

 _Teddy Lupin._

* * *

George wiped one stray tear from his cheek as he finished reading the eighteen year old's letter. He never ceased to amaze him. He had been fine up until the end, when the boy asked Fred to comfort his dead parents.

"They're proud of you, too, Teddy." George whispered. "They love you, too. I'm sure of it." George held onto the letter for a few minutes longer, a part of him hoping to hear Fred's voice again, assuring him that he'd do what his nephew asked. Perhaps he already was. George knew his brother, if he was listening, his brother wouldn't let Teddy down. Not with something this important.

After a few more minutes, George laid Teddy's letter down on the others and he stood. Slowly he walked across the small room to stand by the window. The view was one he and Fred had always enjoyed – they were just high enough to be able to see the very top of the Lovegood's house, and they could look out over their vast garden, and watch the gnomes that they had chucked that morning come crawling back. Fred had always said it was a pointless effort. He said that if the ghoul in the attic was living rent free, then the gnomes technically had that same right. Mum was not pleased by that line of thinking.

George heard a yell from down below, and he saw his nephews, James, Teddy and Hugo running outside with his son, Fred, and he smiled as Fred explained, rather animatedly, to Hugo how to grab some of the more feistier gnomes before he promptly drop-kicked the gnome he had managed to snatch out across the garden and beyond the first marsh line. It hurt a little to see – Fred had always enjoyed dropkicking gnomes, especially ones that tried to bite him. His brother could only be so sympathetic.

George pulled his gaze from the boys and turned back to the room, knowing he had a long way left to go. He swiped the next letter off the top and ripped it open where he stood, not giving himself anymore time to think of Fred….or gnomes.


	11. The Delacour Letters

**A/N: I'm updating super fast for this story mainly because so many of you guys have asked me to update ASAP. I'm not saying that I'm going to do this all the time, but since it's the weekend, I figured I'd do a second update today. You're so very welcome!**

 **Review please and thank you!**

* * *

Once again, George found himself faced with two letters inside one envelope. As he pulled out the separate pieces of parchment, he noticed that the handwriting on both was similar, though he could tell that two different people had clearly written these. The writing on one was big and girlish, with swooping curves and small hearts dotted above the "i" 's. The other letter was more refined, the writing curled and elegant, and George finally recognized it as his sister-in-law's.

George remembered the first time he had seen Miss Fleur Delacour. It was during his sixth year when the Triwizard Tounrament was announced and the whole of Hogwarts watched excitedly as the Durmstrang students marched in, and then there came those lovely Beauxbatons girls, led by the utterly, astonishingly enormous Madame Maxime and Fleur Delacour. She was beautiful, French (part Veela, according to Harry) and of course, married to his older brother, Bill. She had changed quite a bit from her flouncy, flirtatious ways as he had known her before. Now, so long after the war with three children, she had changed into George could really see loving, truly loving, his elder brother.

That had been his and Fred's first concern. That she wasn't really in love, that she was only into him to spite her family, perhaps, or because she thought he was interesting and wanted to change him. It didn't make sense that a girl like her would be drawn to Bill, the rebel red-haired curse breaker who came from a huge family of boys and a house held together with patchwork knitting patterns and magic.

So he and Fred had made it their mission to discover why this beautiful French woman would be mingling with their Burrow. They had looked into her family (mother, father and a sister, all beautiful, and all incredibly lovely people), and her friends (she only had a very close few). Finally they looked into how she was with Bill, and George remembered thinking that it was too late. He may not have trusted Fleur at first, but Bill, he could tell, was head over heels in love with this girl. Fred had looked at him, and he had looked at Fred, and they had silently agreed to let things be. It was Bill's choice, anyway.

As time went on, George noticed that Fleur was so much more than her looks and her accent. She was funny, and she was incredibly kind and caring, and she was in no way shallow. She connected to Bill in a way he had never seen his big brother connect to anyone before. His mother was slow to come around, but eventually she saw what they did: that Bill and Fleur really and truly loved each other, and there was no stopping their life together.

George looked at this well scripted letter, the cursive swimming over the small sheet of parchment.

* * *

 _Fred,_

 _Je suis tres desolee, mon cher frère. Excuse moi pour mon francaise. Pardon, I sometimes slip back into my French, even in writing, when I am sad. And I am so very sad, Fred. I know you and I have never been close, and now we shall never be. But from the time we did know each other, those few short years, and became family, I thought you were wonderful. During the tournament, you and your brother always made me laugh with your antics and your silly cheers and your dancing. I thought it was lovely how you brought so much laughter to a place I thought rather damp and grey. Not to mention when you told me that you rather enjoyed my bouillabaisse. I know it was dreadful that first trial, but it was kind of you to say otherwise. You were always very kind to me. You and George._

 _And Bill also tells me that you were the one to convince him to talk to me at the end of the tournament. I know how shy he can be, especially nowadays with his added scars, so I wish to say thank you. So very much. Because of you, we fell into a grand love the likes of which I had only barely imagined for myself and that survived an unspeakable war. Because of you, we have Victoire, and then Dominique and our Louis. We have a family, a real family together._

 _Thank you, Fred. I do love you, and I do miss you terribly._

 _Your sister (in law)_

 _Fleur Weasley (prev. Delacour)_

* * *

George looked at the short letter, wondering how his sister's feelings had been hidden from him for so long. He had always figured that Fleur had only ever mourned because Bill had mourned. Never had he though that maybe she mourned for a brother she never got to really know.

"If this was Fleur," George muttered to himself, now looking at the second letter, "who might this be…?"

* * *

 _Bonjour mon frère!_

 _Do you remember me, Fred? The last time we met, I was perhaps eleven years old. I have grown to be almost twenty-nine now, very different from the little French girl who, to be honest, had a crush on her future brother, Harry Potter. I know, I was silly! But in my defense, he had saved my life in the Great Lake and I simply swooned!_

 _I realized that I never really had the chance to call you my brother, nor did you have the chance to properly call me your sister. How sad, is it not?_

 _Fred, my dear sister says that you were the one who helped her find her husband. Thank you for helping her find her happiness, and her family._

 _Everyone says you were a hero. I do not know much of what happened, for I was not there. My sister had ushered me and our parents out to France, far away from the danger. But that doesn't matter because I know that you are a hero, Fred. I didn't need to be at the Battle of Hogwarts, and I don't need the stories everyone tells. I know you were a hero because I look at my sister's husband, and I look at George, and Ron and Ginny and I know you are their brother, and I take how brave and strong they are, how strong my whole new family is, and I know you were the same._

 _I am proud to be a part of this family. I wish we could have spent more time together. Don't tell Fleur, but I always secretly wanted an older brother. You would have been the best._

 _Your little sister,_

 _Gabrielle Delacour_

 _P.S - Isn't my English divine! Bill and Fleur taught me well, no?_

* * *

"Gabrielle." George said her name like a sigh, recalling the little blond French girl, now a lovely adult, and her sister. Now, they bother were his sisters, he reminded himself. Gabrielle spent most of her time in America teaching at the American Wizarding school, Ilvermorny, and running for a small position in their MACUSA Ministry. She really was something. George reread the last line of her letter.

 _You would have been the best._

"He was the best brother." George said. "He was the best."


	12. Victoire Weasley's Letter

**A/N: In answer to a question posed by AnonymousFan, yes, this is going to be a relatively lengthy story. Not only are there going to be letters from the entire family of George Weasley, but friends such as Lee Jordan and Dean Thomas will be featured, and even teachers and old acquaintances, like Madam Hooch or Ludo Bagman. Anyone who has ever met Fred Wweasley and been changed in a significant way will be writing a letter to him.**

 **Anyways, a friendly reminder that I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters mentioned, places, schools, etc.**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, George and Fred weren't completely identical. Most people (the majority of his family included) never noticed otherwise since they could always count on one being beside the other. It was always Fred and George.

But Fred was gone, and George found himself growing angrier every single time someone looked at him and thought he was Fred. He wasn't Fred. The last time that happened, George thought guiltily, it had been his sister, Ginny, who had looked at him sadly, and before she could say anything, he had exploded.

" _I'm not him! Okay, I'm not. So stop looking. WE'RE NOT EXACTLY ALIKE, YOU KNOW. For starters, Fred always had both of his ears, remember? Not to mention he was born first, so he always does – did – everything first. He's a leader, a starter, a genius. I'm not. I never have been, not without Fred beside me. Okay, and there's so much more that you and everyone else have never bothered to take note of. Fred had this freckle just above his eyebrow, his left incisor was just a little bit crooked from the time I reverse kicked his last baby tooth out, and he was always just two inches taller than me. He loved Angelina first, he was the one who had big dreams, and he's the one who told me that if anything should happen to him that he wanted me to take care of Angelina. My life has always been Fred's, but we are NOT THE SAME. So stop looking!"_

Ginny hadn't spoken to him for weeks after that outburst, and Harry had apparated here, furious, to demand what George had said that had upset his wife so much. When George told him, Harry's fury subsided a little and was replaced by hard pity.

" _You've always been your own person, George. You're just tired of looking into other people's faces and not seeing one to match your own. It's okay to miss him. It's okay to be hurt and angry. But don't take it out on us. Don't take it out on Ginny."_

George rubbed his hands roughly over his face, running them through his hair, mussing it up.

 _Nice._ A voice snickered in his ear. _The look of disheveled maniac really suits you, Georgie._

George felt his heart swoop like it always did when he heard Fred's voice. He knew it was all in his head, that it wasn't real, but his voice was so like his own that it didn't take much to imagine a conversation. And it didn't stop him from responding.

"Perhaps I'm trying something new." He quipped to the empty room. The sound of his brother's laughter filled his ears.

 _You might want to consider that for real. Nineteen years is a long time, and its certainly been kinder to me than to you, brother._

"Ha! You can't play the Heaven card. Unfair advantage!" George called out.

 _All's fair in life and death._ Fred's voice sounded like it was trying, and failing, to hold back a smirk. _Now come on and read another letter. I haven't got all day and there's more than a few to go._

"Bossy." George sighed, but he nodded, shuffling back over to the looming box on the bed. The next letter was familiar to him, and he recognized his brother's seventeen-year-old daughter's handwriting. Victoire. She had been born two years after the war, but still around the anniversary of the day. In fact, her birthday was only a week prior to today, the actual anniversary of the battle. It was a small celebration, and the birthday girl had left early to go to a Wailing Willows concert with Teddy.

Fleur said that they named her Victoire because she was born so close to the date of the battle. Her name literally meant "victory" in French. She was the first sign in George's life that there were beautiful things in life, things to love and cherish and be thankful for.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _I'm your niece, Victoire Weasley. Of course, if what Uncle Harry says is true, then you already know who I am because you've been watching us, all of us, since you've been gone. He says you're with us always. But I've never met you, Uncle Fred. You never got to meet me. So why would you watch over me? We have nothing to connect us. Mum and Dad say you're the reason that they fell in love. Grandma and Grandpa Weasley told me that you're the reason they smiled and laughed and never lost hope even in the darkest of times. Aunt Ginny says that you're the reason she's strong, and Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron said that you were the reason they made it through Hogwarts (although Aunt Hermione disagrees and said that if she hadn't done half their homework, they'd still be in their third year). Aunt Angelina aid you're the reason she loves, and that she was able to love George. I've asked so many people, both in my family and at school, since you seem to have known everyone. But when I asked Uncle George, he said you were the reason that he lived day to day, never giving into sadness because you're the reason that his life is whole. He survives for you. I don't know what to take from that._

 _You know my birthday is exactly a week before the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts? The battle which you died at. For the longest time, I never understood why everyone was so sad around my birthday. I used to hate it because I thought it was me that everyone didn't like, that I was the reason for the sadness. When I was eight years old, I finally asked my father why it was. And he said that it wasn't me, that it was what was coming the next week. He said that he had another brother, a younger brother, who was Uncle George's twin, and he showed me a picture. He said that you died before I was born, and the anniversary of your death was shortly after my birthday. Dad said that he was sorry that my birthday's had been ruined by their grief. But you know the funny thing? After he told me that, I didn't mind so much. Instead, I used to pretend that you were there, too, with everyone, and the next year I said that aloud to everyone. I said that you were there, too, since you wouldn't dare miss your niece's birthday. And everyone smiled._

 _You've never met me, or my cousins. You've been dead all this time. But I see how my family loves you, and misses you, and I know you must love and miss them, too. You must watch over all of us, because we are your family, and we think of you everyday. Stay with us, Uncle Fred._

 _Oh, and could you possibly keep an eye on Teddy's mum and dad? He's worried that they're sad. I hope they're not sad. I hope they, and you, and Uncle Harry's family….I hope you all are smiling down, watching us._

 _Your little niece,_

 _Victoire Weasley_


	13. Dominique Weasley's Letter

**A/N: Hello from the other side of your computer screen! I am back with another chapter for you. Now, some of these characters are a little obscure because I got them from a full website that listed the main characters and their children. However, there isn't a whole ton of background information on some of these characters, so I apologize if things aren't exactly canon (like age).**

 **Anyways, please continue to review and enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

George picked up the next letter (he had gotten through eleven, now, he thought) and was not surprised to see his niece's messy scrawl on the front of the tan envelope. He knew it was Dominique because the sixteen year old girl had doodled a rather accurate sketch of herself, smiling, on the back near the wax seal.

Dominique was Bill and Fleur's second child, and George knew that, while she was absolutely adored by her parents and her very large family, she was constantly under pressure to live up to her older sister, Victoire, and the standards she set as the eldest. Actually, he more than knew what she was going through – he had lived it himself. He told Dominique as much, too, a few years ago when it became obvious that the pressures from her parents, her sister, her teachers, and even herself…it was getting to her and she was one scolding away from breaking down completely. So George had sat down with his niece on the front stoop of the Burrow one morning and told her all about growing up in a family of seven, where he had five brothers (four of which were older than him) and a sister. George told her that he knew what it was like being stuck in the middle, not being the eldest (the perfect example for the rest of them to follow) and not being the you gest (the baby with a brighter future, especially if that youngest child "broke the mold", like Ginny did, since being the only girl in a family of boys led to certain special treatments). Dominique's younger brother, Louis, was a perfect example of that.

" _How did you get over it?"_ Dominique had asked him. " _How can I still make Mum and Dad and Victoire proud, make everyone proud, but still being able to be myself?"_

" _You have to find your own thing to do in life."_ George explained to her, smiling slightly. " _Bill, your dad, he's the eldest of us Weasley kids, so of course, like Victoire, he was the idol we all based ourselves on, the one we strived to be like because we knew it would please our parents. Bill was Head Boy and a prefect and charming and a great student. Then – he was a curse breaker, with leather jackets and long hair and ear piercings and cars that made him look like the singer of the Bent Winged Snitches. He was the coolest big brother."_ Dominique had laughed, and George's smile had grown. " _Anyways, Charlie, the second eldest, adored Bill and everything he did. So did Percy, and Fred and I, and Ron and Ginny."_

" _But…"_ Dominique had said, " _How did you manage not to do exactly as he did? I mean he was the oldest, the favorite – didn't Grandma Weasley try and – and conform you?"_

George couldn't help it. He laughed. His niece was so serious sometimes, so much like her mother, older than her young age. George had stopped laughing after another minute and had gingerly taken his niece by the shoulders so that she was facing him, her face as flushed as her hair, such a contrast from her older sister, who had inherited Fleur's golden-silver locks.

" _Dominique, listen to me. I know your parents. They may want you to be like your sister, but they also want you to be your own person, and more importantly, they want you to be happy. Charlie joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Seeker, which bill hadn't done, and he decided to focus his talents into the Care of Magical Creatures field, specifically the work and caretaking of dragons. Our Mum may not have been altogether pleased, but it makes Charlie so happy. Percy, too, wanted to work for the ministry, like Dad, your Grandpa, so he threw himself into his schoolwork, became a prefect and Head Boy. George and I were Beaters, and since we never cared much for school anyway, we devoted our lives to jokes and pranks and making people smile. Ron eventually found something new he could be proud of as Keeper and a prefect, and of course, helping to destroy Voldemort in the war. Ginny has always had the pleasure of being her own person, but she's an amazing Chaser and Seeker, and quite deadly with a wand as well."_ George said all of this looking right into his astonished niece's eeys. " _You are an amazing girl, Dominique. You shouldn't be afraid of being yourself. Trust me, your mum and Dad will support you."_

And she had. Dominique had completely embraced everything her Uncle George said overnight. She joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their new Chaser the next year, she joined Flitwick's choir, she insisted on interning for The Quibbler, and she showed an avid interest in drawing and painting – she did graffiti on the side of the Burrow tor resemble the Weasley Fireworks. Bill and Fleur, George knew, had been more than a little surprised at the sudden change in behavior from their daughter, but it was Victoire who embraced it first.

" _Finally!"_ he had heard her squeal. " _I actually have a cool younger sister now."_

George had smiled, and Bill seemed to relax at that, realizing how much he and Fleur had been leaning on their second girl. Fleur, too, seemed to notice the happier vibe to her precious Dominique, and George caught his sister-in-law buying dozens of Quibbler magazines, scanning the pages for her daughter's often featured artwork to display proudly wherever she could. Needless to say, Dominique no longer felt like a desperate carbon copy of her sister. Sighing with an emotion not quite happiness, but not despair either, George opened her letter, being careful not to rip her sketch.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _You never met me, but I'm your niece, Dominique Weaslety. No doubt my mother, Fleur, and father, Bill, already wrote to you, as did my sister, Victoire. I don't think Louis has ye, though. He's my younger brother. He's two years behind me, and I'm only a year behind Victoire. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Everyone says that your still with us. Maybe I'm writing this to feel like I'm actually contributing, like I have anything of importance to say. I don't. No offense, but you and your dead-ness haven't really affected my life. I'm doing okay on my own. Now I am, anyway. Uncle George, your twin brother, helped me out a lot when I was going through a hard time living up to the expectations set by my sister. Uncle George said that you and him were the real middle children of your family, but since you were born a minute earlier, I guess that officially makes you the middle child. It can suck, can't it? But Uncle George told me how you guys grew up in a family of seven, and how you had my dad and Uncle Charlie and Uncle Percy to live up to, but somehow, you all found ways to be individual from your siblings – to be happy. I wanted to be happy. So I joined the Quidditch team (I'm a Chaser) and the choir and I'm interning with the Lovegoods for their magazine, The Quibbler. It's really popular, now, and I even get to publish my drawings in it! Mum and Dad have told me that they're proud of me for following my dreams, and even Victoire says I'm a cool younger sister and we actually feel like sisters now. Louis just loves Miss Luna. He fancies her, I think, but don't tell him I said that. On the back of this envelope is a sketch of me, so you know what I look like. There's so many of us in this family it's hard to keep track. We've got Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws. We're the entire school of Hogwarts under one house and family name! Not to mention Beauxbatons where Mum went, and Uncle Viktor went to Durmstrang, and there's a new exchange program with some of the students from Ilvermorny in America, and I've seen Roxanne, Uncle George's daughter, flirting with a Newt Kowalski. Odd name, but he's a half-blood, so it figures. Some of those American boys are pretty cute, with their accents and all._

 _Anyway, I wanted to say that I wouldn't change a thing of our crazy family because I'm happy. And I have your brother to thank for that. So I guess I should thank you too, for being his brother and best friend and making him happy._

 _What do you know? I guess I had a lot to say after all._

 _Your amazing and best niece,_

 _Dominique._

* * *

George couldn't stop the grin that spread over his forlorn face as he finished reading.

"You certainly are something, Dom." George chuckled, and a matching whisper in his ear followed suit.

 _That she is, Georgie. That she is._


	14. Louis Weasley's Letter

**A/N: I would appreciate it if people did not leave rants that are unrelated to this story. Also keep in mind that this is a fan- fiction story. I do not own the rights to Harry Potter and all such characters. I am writing this for fun and because I love it. I respect all of your opinions, but please do not trash me just because you feel like it. Thank you.**

 **Sorry for that. Anyways, thank you guys so much for the pleasant reviews and the follows and favs. Here is a new chapter just for you.**

* * *

Since things seemed to be going in an order that was beyond him, George was hardly surprised to see that the next letter was rom his brother Bill's youngest child, Louis.

Louis was fifteen, and the spitting image of his father. It was kind of funny: Victoire, tall and blonde and petit, looked exactly like her mother. Louis, with his longer red hair and charming smile and quiet, pleasant demeanor, was just like Bill (before the werewolf and all the leather). And of course, Dominique was an extraordinary blend of both Bill and Fleur.

George chuckled as he split the seal to pull out Louis's letter. His own son, Fred, and Louis had grown up together and had spent endless summers in his joke shop trying some of the newer products, or some of the things Ron and Ginny developed. There were times when Fred and Louis met up with Teddy and James Sirius Potter, and George would see Harry looking at the four boys with a pained sort of happiness. He asked him once what it was he was seeing.

" _The Marauders."_ Harry had told him. " _It's like…I can see my dad and Sirius and Remus… and I keep thinking that Fred – your son – is such a perfect fit, and it makes me happy to think that maybe Fred – our brother - that maybe my dad and Remus and Sirius included him where they are. He's always been a true Marauder."_

George wished he hadn't asked. Now he saw those four boys and it broke his heart with a painful happiness as he imagined he saw his brother with Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, their childhood idols and their real life family. George looked down at his nephew's letter, marveling at the shortness of it. Louis, while reserved, always had a lot to say, and if you gave him the chance, he would go on and on and on in a fashion eerily similar to how his Aunt Hermione was like in school. She was actually his favorite, as George often saw them simply sitting together, reading, or deep into a conversation only they seemed to understand.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _I don't know if you already know who I am (like people tell me you do) but in case you missed it and you don't, my name is Louis. It's French, and actually pronounced like "Louie" but don't worry. Everyone gets it wrong the first time. I don't really have much to say. Shocker since I can usually talk for hours on end no matter the topic, usually with my Aunt Hermione. But in this case, well, I've never been good at writing letters. I tend to ramble and suddenly I've found that I've written pages of parchment. I plan to keep this very short._

 _I found a book at school the other week that I thought might interest you. The book was 101 Magical and Medicinal Uses for Gillyweed, which I borrowed from Professor Longbottom's classroom. It wasn't so much the book but what I found inside. It was a letter to Professor Longbottom from you and Uncle George, and I think it was put there on purpose. If you don't mind, I think I'm going to hold onto it for now. But I can tell you what it said. Apparently, you had sent this letter to Professor Longbottom after he had sent you that book I mentioned. He thought you could use some of the 101 Magical and Medicinal Uses for Gillyweed as product ideas (clearly you followed his advice, seeing that you have a whole line of SweetDreams, Insta-Gills, and Mermaid Wraps). Not only was this letter a part of history (your history, my family's history, as dumb as it sounds), but it was ordinary, so friendly, that I felt like I reading a piece of who you really are, not the prankster or the businessman or anyone but Fred. Cool, huh?_

 _I'm going to end my letter here. But maybe, if it's okay, could I write you again? It helps, I think, to write things down. And it helps even more to write to someone. Thank you._

 _Your nephew,_

 _Louis Weasley._


	15. Angelina Johnson's Letter

**A/N: Sorry for the break. Hectic life leaves me no time to write!**

 **I do not own Harry Potter or any such characters, places, etc.**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

When George saw the handwriting inscribed on the next envelope, he knew that if he hadn't felt awkward before, this next letter might just push him over that edge. That is to say, while reading his brother's and sister's letters, the ones from his parents and his now extended family, the ones from his nieces and nephews and knowing that he was no where finished with any of them, but he should have really expected this. He should have known his wife would have written a letter of her own.

Angelina Johnson had dated his brother, Fred, while they went to school, starting in their sixth year when Fred had asked her to the Yule Ball and continuing past when they left Hogwarts in a flurry of fireworks and opened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. As far as George knew, Fred was head over heels for Angelina, and she was the same. Fred had even shown George the ring he had planned to give Angelina once the war was over.

It was the same ring George had given her when he proposed to her only a few ears after his brother died in the very war he was waiting to be over.

George had never really given much thought on his feelings for Angelina while they were in school. Sure, he dated a few girls here and there (Katie Bell, Leanne McPherson, and even the Muggle girl down in the village near his house for a summer), but Angelina had always seemed to be nothing more than a friend, and then she was Fred's girl. He had seen the way he started looking at her when they started their fourth year, and she responded in kind. George was happy that his brother was happy, and he could be there to be Fred's much-needed wingman.

After Fred had died, he spent a lot of time out of sync with the rest of the world. Everyone was grieving, he knew, but no one could possibly understand what he was going through. No one but Angelina. She had found him in his old room at the Burrow, curled under the blankets of his brother's bed, and she had sat beside him and cried with him, telling him that she had loved Fred so much, and how she was going to marry him and how she knew what he was going through because she felt the pain right beside him. And he hadn't felt so alone after that.

He and Angelina spent hours every day for two years just talking to each other, walking around the fields near his house, just letting each other be. And somewhere along the way, George finally saw what his brother had seen, and he found himself falling for the girl he now called his wife, the mother of his two children.

The woman who wrote the letter he now held in his hand, the one addressed to _My Darling Fred._

George slowly peeled away the seal from the envelope, and slid the folded piece of parchment from it. This was harder than he thought, and he hadn't even started to read it yet.

* * *

 _Fred,_

 _Oh darling, darling Fred. Remember me? You better. We've been friends since we were eleven, teammates since we were thirteen, and dating ever since we were sixteen, and you asked me to be your date to the Yule Ball during the Tournament. Hell, Fred, I was so sure you were going to propose after we left school. And I say "we" loosely, seeing as you two idiot left early and nearly blew up the entire Great Hall with your fireworks! I was as damn near your fiancée as I could get, and you still didn't ask. Why? I would have said yes, a thousand times. But you waited, and I understand why. And we lost our chance forever._

 _I love you. From that very first day we met on the Hogwarts train our first year, where you pulled my braids and I slugged you in the stomach, and every day since then. Spending time with you and your brother was the absolute highlight of my days, my weeks, those years at school. When you asked me to the Yule Ball in our sixth year, I don' know if you could tell, but I was utterly ecstatic. I screamed back in my room with Katie and the other girls with excitement that I had a date, and it was with you. And when you asked me, while we were dancing, to be your girlfriend, I think my heart might have exploded in my chest I was so happy. And I kissed you, then and there._

 _What we had was absolutely beautiful for our short time together. If you could call almost eleven years a short time. But it was for us, wasn't it? I want you to know that I never doubted how much you cared for me, and I hope you never doubted how much I loved you. I still do. But how could I have loved you as strongly as I did – as I do – if a part of me hadn't loved George in the same way?_

 _NO, nothing happened while you and I were together. I wouldn't do that to you, and your twin would never ever betray you like that. So rest easy in your grave._

 _But you are two halves of a whole soul, you know. When you were killed, George and I shared our grief. He was the only one who understood the pain of losing you the same as I did._

 _Fred, I love you with all of my heart. But over time, George and I grew closer than we ever had been, and I saw you in him like I hadn't before, and I realized that I loved him deeper, too. He's helped me learn to live again and to love. And I knew that you would want me to move on - that you would want both of us to move on. I knew that you would approve of George and me together, though your mother was harder to convince, because who would ever be better for either of us? In the end, we loved each other because we loved you._

 _We have two children now. The youngest is our daughter, Roxanne, and she is certainly a spitfire. But our eldest, our son…well, his name is Fred, you know. The only logical choice for a son of ours, really. I hope that makes you smile. George certainly does, now. It seems like he has a piece of you back, and it's like his heart has slowly begin to mend. It's not nearly enough, Fred, not even close. But it's something._

 _I remember you every day. George remembers you._

 _We love you,_

 _Angelina._

* * *

"We love you, Freddie."


	16. Fred Weasley Jr's Letter

**A/N: I'm making myself incredibly sad writing these little letters, but at the same time, I get to say goodbye from every single character J.K has ever written into existence. Whoa. I hope I'm doing a fairly decent job.**

 **Anyway, know that JK Rowling owns everything even remotely related to Harry Potter and that entire universe.**

 **Review, please and thank you!**

* * *

George stood and stretched his legs. It seemed as if he had been sitting in this one position for the longest time, yet as he looked at his watch, he saw that he had only been reading these few letters for a little over one hour.

"Man, Freddie. Why do people have to love you so much?" George half-heartedly complained, twisting his neck to the side, trying to crack the stiffness out. In his ear, he heard the whisper of a laugh.

 _Maybe it was because I was a bloody prince among men, eh, Georgie?_

George barked a laugh. That was exactly what his idiot of a twin would say. Hell, it was what he would say. Even now, they had a connection that seemed to have crossed even Death's thick veil.

"You were a bloody something or other, that's for sure."

 _Hey!_

A wisp of wind chilled around George, and for a minute, he felt entirely weightless, even though he knew he was still on the ground. His hair, longer now that it used to be when he was younger, fluttered wildly around his face. There was a sort f prodding in his sides, as if someone were trying to tickle him. He swiped, stifling a chuckle, but there was no one there. He knew that. This wasn't an invisibility cloak trick, or a Disillusionment Charm at work. This was Fred.

"Fred?" George said as the magic died down, leaving the room oddly still. "Are you still there?"

 _Course I am, you git. You think I'd leave you now? After all this time? Oh ye of little faith._

The relief George felt at hearing that ghostly voice was immense. He knew that he was probably going crazy, or maybe Fred was simply talking into his other ear over there in the Great Beyond. No, he was definitely crazy. But he couldn't bring himself to really care. This was his brother, his Freddie.

 _Enough standing around and thinking. Pick up another damn letter!_

"Just because you're dead, doesn't make you the boss of me.' George griped, but he reached for another letter anyways, this time walking around the room casually as he opened it.

 _No, but your still grieving and feeling all sorry so you'll do what I say anyways._

George could hear the smirk in his brother's voice and it made him roll his eyes. As he slid the next piece of paper from the envelope, however, his breath caught.

He had always known what he would name his first son, even before he had ever considered marrying Angelina, long before Fred was dead and way, way back when everything was the way it should be and his brother, and best friend, was by hi side. There was no question. Who else meant that much to him? So when Angelina had brought their first child into the world, their little boy, he had known, without a doubt, what his name would be. And Angelina agreed.

Fred Weasley Jr.

Of course, when he had brought the baby out to meet the rest of his gigantic family, his mother had burst into tears and as inconsolable for hours, and his father had choked up and his brothers and Harry had nodded their heads, just staring at the tanned, red-haired infant. The other women of the family, Ginny and Hermione and Fleur and Audrey, had flocked around him, cooing and crying, but far less than his mother. Everyone loved him, and they thought he was perfect.

His Fred.

Now, with his brother in his ear, he held the letter of his own son in his hands, and George found himself wondering – how is this going to go? His son had grown up hearing stories about his uncle, who he was named after, and all the things he did with his father, the adventures that they had, the dreams, the plans they made. It was supposedly a lot for a kid to take in, according to Angelina, and Harry.

Fred Jr. was just about fifteen now. Roxanne, their daughter, was fourteen, and George looked at his little family, and then his bigger one, and he thought he had it all.

Well, almost.

 _Open it._

Slowly, George Weasley lifted the folded parchment apart and gazed at the scrawling loopy illegibility that was his son's handwriting. Merlin, it was awful. He would have to talk to his son about this. It was simply not acceptable. If Fred Jr. was so dead set on following his dad and uncles as Marauders (which, as of this moment, he was) then he needed to have better penmanship. After all, forgery is an important skill when causing mischief. And no forger could have dragon scrawl that bad. Even Pigwidgeon had better writing! But George shook his head, focused his eyes, and began to read it anyway.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _My name is Fred, too. I'm named after you, apparently. I guess that's how it works in this family. Everyone is named after someone. Molly II is named after Grandma, and James is named after Uncle Harry's dad, and Albus is named after two headmasters' of Hogwarts (talk about shoes to fill), and Lily is after Uncle Harry's mum and Aunt Ginny's friend, and Teddy is named after his father and his grandfather, and I guess I'm named after you._

 _You were my dad's brother. His twin, but you already knew that. Of course. I keep forgetting that you probably already know a lot of what I'm writing to you about. But I don't have a lot of new things to say. I mean, I'm fifteen and I really want to be a Marauder like you and my dad and Uncle Harry and his dad and his godfather and Teddy's dad. Teddy already has the map (the one you gave Uncle Harry) and he and James and I have formed our own little trio. It's kind of cool, but my dad says we have a long way to go before the mischief is managed._

 _He's odd, my dad. Was he like this when you are alive? In case you haven't noticed, I'll explain. Everyone says that my dad was a jokester and a prankster and he was always laughing and having fun, even when the Dark War began, when Voldemort took power and killed thousands of innocents. But in all my life, I've hardly ever seen him smile!_

 _Okay, that's not completely true. He laughs and smiles with me, and with Roxie and mum and everyone. I feel like I'm the only one who can get a real laugh out of him sometimes, though, and he's quiet. Not the person he used to be, according to everyone. I guess that's what happens when you lose the one person you love most in the world._

 _He loved you, Uncle Fred. He loved you so much that he named me after you, and at first, I was daunted. I had your name, the name of a legend and a hero. How was I supposed to live up to that? Everyone at home and at school looks at me as if they're expecting me to be some sort of mini-image of you and when I don't do the things that they're expecting, it feels like I've let them down some how. It wasn't until Uncle Harry sat down with me that I really understood._

 _He was named after his father, and he named his children after his parents and friends, and those who meant the most to him in the world. But that didn't mean he was trying to bring them back. He told me that by naming me after you, my dad wasn't trying to forcibly bring you back from beyond the veil. He was hoping to keep your memory alive in some way, but he wasn't taking away my individuality._

 _So, now, I think it's the greatest honor in the world to be named after you. I get to carry on the name of a hero, the name of someone that brought happiness to the Wizarding World even in the darkest of times. The person who knew my dad best and was his closest friend and brother all his life. Sure, those are some big shoes to fill. But I promise, I will do my best._

 _From one Fred to another, I will look after my dad. Maybe I can be the other half it seems he lost. I'll give it my best shot._

 _Yours,_

 _The other Fred Weasley (Jr.)_


	17. Roxanne Weasley's Letter

**A/N: Back again with another letter! In case you haven't heard, I'm about to graduate high school! Which means, I have a lot of free time to update these stories here on my page, as well as write new ones! If you want to see new stories I publish, add me to your Author Alerts, and you'll know as soon as I hit that button.**

 **Anyways, AnonymousFan guessed it: Roxanne Weasley is the next letter. This chapter is pretty short (SORRY!) but I hope you like it anyways.**

 **Please remember that I own nothing but this plot.**

 **Review!**

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 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _My name is Roxanne. I'm sure plenty of my family members have mentioned me already, but just to recap: I am your niece. Your twin brother, George, is my father, and my brother, Fred Jr., is named after you. That seems to be how things are done in this family._

 _I don't have too much to say. Mum told me that I should just speak from my heart and say everything I wish I could. But I've never known you, Uncle Fred, and I don't know how to talk to someone I've never met. At least, I don't know how to talk from the heart. I'm a lot like my mother that way._

 _You know, she tells stories about you. She talks about how you and she dated through school, and how much she loved you. You were going to marry her once, weren't you? Strange, seeing how things turned out. I hope it's not strange to see your brother as my father, when it so easily could have been you._

 _Sorry, that's a weird thing to say. I always do that – say things that really don't need to be said. But these thoughts are what are running through my mind._

 _My mother says that she loved you so much, and after you died, she and my dad comforted each other and she learned that she loved him, too. They both really love and miss you though, so I guess you could say that they bonded over their love for you, Uncle Fred, and it only makes sense that they fell for each other. They were the only ones who felt the same grief._

 _Okay, I am not saying any of this right. Can we start over? My name is Roxanne, and I am sixteen years old. I am a sixth year at Hogwarts, and my brother is your namesake. Seems to be the norm in this family._

 _Ugh, I am so bad at this! How come everyone else can write normal, heartfelt letters to you, but when I try, everything comes out wrong? All I've done is made this very weird,_ _and I can't even try to imagine writing to you, Uncle Fred, because I know that, in all likelihood, my dad will be the one reading this and now I'm all sorts of confused._

 _I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this. Were my parents so awkwardly unemotional when you knew them, when you were alive? My mom is so reserved, and it's so hard to imagine her as the Hogwarts Chaser and Quidditch Captain that she used to be. And my dad – prankster, joke shop millionaire, Beater, all around happiest man on Earth? I don't see it. It's not there anymore. I wish I could see how they used to be, with you._

 _There. I think I've finally said something right. Don't mistake me. I'm not a bumbling fool. It's just…I like to think. And when I think, sometimes I end up thinking things that aren't so nice. I think about all the "_ what ifs" _and I question everyone about everything, like my brother. Except my questions aren't always so pleasant._

 _I feel like I'm giving you the wrong impression of me. My name is Roxanne Weasley. I am sixteen and a sixth year. I like to read, and I actually prefer Muggle sports to the wizarding ones. I get straight O's, and Arithmancy is actually my favorite subject. I have three best friends, Amanda Cromwell, Sarah Abbott, and Lysander Scamander. They are in my house, too, except Lysander is a Hufflepuff, but that doesn't matter. I have a snowy owl (a gift from Uncle Harry) and I named her Tully. Mum and Dad also allowed me and Fred to adopt a dog from Diagon Alley last summer, and we picked out this cute little black puppy named Orion. Everyone seemed very emotional when we picked him. Even though I don't play Quidditch, I love watching my family play in the orchard when we all get together. Sometimes, just the adults play, and sometimes the kids play, and sometimes we mix teams._

 _Our family is large and crazy and anger-inducing and frustrating and chaotic and absolutely out of control ninety percent of the time. But I love every single one of them, whether they are related to me by blood or simply because they are close friends of the family. They love me._

 _So maybe I didn't completely screw this letter up. Did I? I don't think so._

 _Thanks for sticking with me through all this scribbling and scrambling._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Your niece_

 _Roxanne_

 _(P.S: only my closest friends are allowed to call me Roxie. I figure, you can too.)_


	18. Rose Granger - Weasley's Letter

**A/N: I am on a roll here guys! Here's to the next chapter.**

 **Now, I've gotten a few requests for certain characters to make an appearance, and let me say that they will definitely be included! I have an order that I'm following, so bear with me please! Every character will be included.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

George wiped his eyes when he finished his daughter's letter. He had never laughed so hard since Fred died. His daughter was sixteen years old, and he loved her more than anything in this world, but she couldn't be more awkward when it came to feelings. Roxanne was an incredible girl, but George knew that when it came to talking about anything personal, she freaked out. Her mother used to be the same way.

George had never really thought that Roxanne would have so much trouble with something. Granted, she had never really grasped the concept of "sports". But other than that, she was exemplary. If George didn't know any better, he'd say that she must have been a miniature Hermione. Roxanne loved her Aunt, and she wanted to be just like her. She was taking all accelerated classes, learning Mermish and Goblin, reading constantly,and even trying to train Orion and Tully to out Morse code. But if you gave her a pen and paper and told her to write from her heart…you'd get the letter in front of him.

George laughed again. That was his daughter, and he couldn't be prouder. Putting her letter aside, George reached into the shockingly still very full box beside him and pulled out the next letter. This envelope was decorated with little pink flowers and golden snitches with hearts on the wing. Fred's name was written in swirly, looping writing, with smiley faces. George recognized the eleven year old girl's drawing skills, since she put that on all the letters she sent.

Rose Granger-Weasley was an absolutely enchanting girl. She was his brother, Ron's eldest daughter, the same age as Harry's second son, Albus, and both of them just started their first year at Hogwarts this year. Rose was every bit as smart as her mother, Hermione, and quick as a whip. But George had also noticed that she was as sweetly naïve as his younger brother tended to be.

George was careful opening her letter, trying his best not to rip any of the little drawings his niece had doodled around the parchment. George slid the letter from the envelope and peeled it open. Rose had clearly spent time on this – probably with some insistence from her mother. The letter was a decent length, and decorated just like the envelope, with golden snitches and wands and even a Patronus buzzard along the side (the kids had been practicing those charms since they learned that Harry had been able to do it since he was thirteen).

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _Hello! My name is Rose Granger – Weasley, and I am your niece! My mother decided to keep her last name when she married my father because she wanted to be able to make a name for herself, and she wanted that name to represent all that Muggleborns could do. My father didn't mind – he said he was just happy she even agreed to marry him. My mother said she was happy that he finally asked._

 _I started school this year. Yep, I'm eleven! I was so excited to ride the train with Albus Severus and James this year, and getting sorted was nothing like anyone said! My father said that you have to battle a troll first thing, while Grandmother told me that all you do is recite the spells you've learned. James wouldn't tell me, either, and you know what? It was just a hat! They all lied!_

 _James is in Gryffindor, like most of our family. Teddy was in Hufflepuff, and Auntie Fleur went to Beauxbatons in France. Albus is the only Slytherin, but he's not evil, I swear! He says that everyone isn't all that bad over there, and he's made some really great friends. I'm glad, except I wish that the rest of the Slytherin's were nice like Albus, not just the first years. His best friend is Scorpius Malfoy, and my parents say that they went to school wit his father, which is kind of weird. Especially since, apparently, the Malfoy's are related to Teddy. Turns out that Teddy's grandmother, Grandma Andromedra, is Scorpius's dad's mother's sister. Weird._

 _I also think Scorpius has a crush on me. I don't know…he's kind of cute, but he's a Malfoy and a Slytherin and my dad is already coming to terms with Albus being in "the evil house with the evil blonde's son". It doesn't matter. I'm way to young to be thinking about boys. At least, that's what Mum says._

 _Anyways, for my birthday, Mum and Dad had saved up to buy me my very own pet! We already have way too many owls in this huge family of ours, so they instead let me get a cat! His name is Church, and he's a blue Persian. He's not much of a people person, but he and I get along great and he is the sweetest kitty you've ever met. Really. He even scares the gnomes in Grandma's yard away._

 _What else can I say? Oh, I'm in Gryffindor, in case that wasn't clear. And my best friend is a girl in my dorm, Tina Kowalski. Apparently, it's a family name and a long, complicated love story dating way back before witches and wizards were allowed to marry Muggles. Tina and I are best friends, along with her cousin, Lysander, in Hufflepuff._

 _You will never know how much you are really missed, Uncle Fred. Everyone is hurting over the loss of you. And not just family members. James has told me how all the teachers at school talk about you and Uncle George, and I didn't believe him until my first week at Hogwarts. I'm sure Grandma Molly wrote to everyone there and asked them to send you letters, too._

 _I love you, Uncle Fred!_

 _Your niece,_

 _Rose Granger – Weasley_


	19. Hugo Weasley's Letter

**A/N: I am officially a high school graduate, and a future college freshman. My mind is blown. To celebrate this momentous occasion, I have updated this story once again. Enjoy!** **Also, Happy Fourth of July! Not the reason for this update, but still, it's a day for celebration!**

 **Review please.**

George loved his nieces and his nephews almost more than anything in his life. His kids were one of the few things he did love more. His brother beat them all, but there had to be some limits. But George always thought that his young nephew Hugo, his brother Ron's son, was quite possibly his favorite of all his sibling's children. Hugo was special. Maybe it was the eyes (intelligent, like his mother's, but also completely unaware of everything around him, like his father's – or so they seemed. The boy was actually quite observant when he wanted to be. Usually when he could use his surroundings to his advantage, and screw with his older sister and his cousins.

George laid his niece Rose's letter on top of the ever growing pile of opened letters and picked up the one that must be from his nephew. Just like their mother, Hermione, Rose and Hugo had a knack for filing up the space that they were given. Rose filled it was laughter and bumbling words and images. Hugo was the one who could fill it with an eloquence that one didn't usually see in a nine year old. But he was his mother's son, true to form, so George was not the least bit surprised to see a lengthy letter inside the envelope.

* * *

 _Hey Uncle Fred!_

 _My name is Hugo, and I'm your nephew. I'm sure you've read a lot of letters that have said the same thing, but just to clarify, my dad is your youngest brother, Ron. Yep. Your little brother finally got the Gobstones to ask my mother, Hermione, to marry him and WHAM! Me and Rosie were born._

 _Okay, maybe it wasn't quite like that. Mum told me to say that, but really, Rose was born first, and then two years later, me! Rose is already in school, but I haven't started yet. Not for another two years anyway. Mum and Dad fuss and say that they're not ready to let me go yet, but I've heard all my aunts and uncles say that to their kids, and as soon as that train leaves, Lily and I watch them all breathe sighs of relief._

 _Oh, Lily is Uncle Harry's daughter. She's my age, and I really hope we're both in Gryffindor when we start our first year. I mean, not that it really matters. Albus is in Slytherin, and so was Auntie Narcissa and Auntie Andromedra. Teddy was a Hufflepuff, and Auntie Fleur went to Beauxbatons. Daisy (she's Uncle Harry's cousin's daughter) is in Ravenclaw. Even Uncle Viktor (he's not really our Uncle, but apparently Viktor Krum is a really close friend of the family. He and Uncle Harry are on good terms, and he and Auntie Fleur are, like, best friends. Dad seems to like him okay, sort of, but Mum really, really likes him. They've been pen pals for years!)_

 _Anyway, even Uncle Viktor went to Durmstrang, the school up North. We're pretty much a good blend of everything. You'd like the family parties, Uncle Fred. There's not nearly enough room at Grandpa and Grandma's, so we all get together outside in the fields and it gets so wild! James uses his dad's Invisibility Cloak to pull pranks on us with Teddy who Morphs into all of us and makes everyone go crazy! One year, he morphed into Uncle Bill and started singing karaoke. It was hilarious, especially when he started singing on top of the tables. He's not allowed to change into Uncle George though._

 _Anyways, Uncle Charlie sometimes brings the baby dragons he's tending, which Hagrid absolutely loves. He and Olympia (um, Madame Maxime), have really started getting serious lately, although they've been together for years, as far as I know. Whatever. I don't get it, though Dad says I will when I'm older. As if! No way is any girl going to catch me with a Confundus Charm (I'm sure that's what happens. Scorpius Malfoy acts so stupid around Rose, he must be Confunded)._

 _I guess that's all I have to say that's new. This was not as boring as I thought, to be honest. Mum'll be pleased. She's been trying to get me to "emotionally develop beyond the range of a teaspoon". Whatever that means._

 _Love, Hugo_

 _(Your youngest nephew from your youngest brother)_


	20. Audrey Weasley's Letter

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who have been following, favoriting, and leaving awesome reviews to this story. Those notifications mean the world to me, guys, and I hope they keep coming.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (besides the books and DVDS). All characters, references, and etc. belongs to J.K Rowling.**

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _We never actually formally met. My name is Audrey Magnolia Weasley, formerly Audrey Magnolia Kettleburn. I'm your sister – in –law, married to your dear elder brother, Percy._

 _I know, you're probably very surprised that your stuffy, work obsessed brother is married, and, surprise, a father of two beautiful girls, Lucy and Molly. Well, let me tell you, it wasn't an easy ride. Of course, you probably met his previous girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater? Well, once Percy had left Hogwarts and began to work for the ministry, that relationship soured rather quickly. I know because I had to hear all about that from Percy when he was trying to figure things out._

 _Yes, I did work at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Beasts, Breeding and Trade. However, since our daughters were born, I've pretty much become a stay at home mother until they're old enough for school. I've been trying to start a write up on my own book based on research I've done in my department, but not much can be said that the legendary Newt Scamander hasn't already covered._

 _Anyways, while I was at the Ministry, during those very dark days, I kept an eye on Percy. I was probably his only friend at that time. I mean, he and Penelope had quite the falling out, and then he had the blowout with all of you, and he was drowning in work – I was worried about him. He was going to burn out, and nobody cared. Except, I did._

 _Percy isn't such a bigot underneath his egocentric workaholic exterior. So I was his friend. I helped him understand why he and Penelope fell apart – he was so absorbed on rising the ranks of Ministerial power, he never saw her pulling away. I talked to him about all of you – he really felt awful with how he treated you guys. It was tearing him apart. But the Ministry was all Percy had ever dreamed of, and when Harry came out and claimed Voldemort's return, he was so afraid of how his boss would react against him, seeing how close Harry is, and has always been, to the family. Percy was afraid, and instead let his fear and his pride control his words and actions for months. Believe me, he didn't want to lose the one thing he had that made him unique in his family, that separated him from all of you, but he also knew that he had messed things up with Arthur and Molly and all of you. He just couldn't bring himself to fix it. You can thank me for that, by the way._

 _You see, word spread fairly quickly through the remains of the Order and through Potterwatch about the oncoming battle at Hogwarts. Percy and I were discussing the current issue of the mishandling of an American Thunderbird when the radio lit up. Percy knew you all would be fighting, and he realized hat if you died hating him, believing that he hated you, he would never forgive himself for letting things get so bad._

 _Okay, so I was the one who told him that. But he listened, didn't he? He came to fight. And, well….the rest, as they say, is history._

 _We bonded a lot after that day nineteen years ago. I was still pretty much his only friend, but now he had his family back, so he opened up to me more now that he didn't feel quite as guarded and vulnerable._

 _I came to your funeral, Fred, and held Percy as he cried._

 _Truth be told, we were friends, just friends, for only a short time. Oh, I didn't mind. I had fallen for Percy pretty early on, back when I was trying to be the glue to mend all his broken pieces together again. I saw the kindest, gentlest, singularly most naïve, heartfelt person that I had ever met. It was why I tried so hard to care for him, to get through to him. And it worked._

 _Percy asked me out about four months after your death. I learned that he really, really disliked being alone, and I was okay to being the solution to that problem. I like to believe that I've helped your brother become better than what he used to be._

 _We dated for about another six or seven months before he said he loved me, and he meant it, too. A year later, he proposed by using one of Charlie's dragons to deliver the ring to my desk. He's quite sweet, he is._

 _I wish you could see him with Molly and Lucy, our girls. He absolutely adores them._

 _Oh Fred, I wish I had gotten to meet you just once. I hadn't even been to you fabulous shop until after Lucy was born._

 _You were truly a spectacular spirit, Fred. I know that wherever you are, you are warm and happy and watching over all the lives you have touched. I hope that it gives you comfort in seeing your elder brother come out of his confined shell and into the real world._

 _Please. Keep watching us. We love you so much Fred, whether we have met you or not. You are loved._

 _Your sister,_

 _Audrey Magnolia Kettleburn Weasley._

* * *

George read the letter once, and then a second time, paying close attention to the details of Percy's life, his state of mind when he was separated from his family. George had always assumed that Percy had been pompously content at the Ministry right up until he came to join then in the Room of Requirement, just as he had assumed that his brother had most likely dumped Penelope on her ass when her ambitions didn't reach quite as high as his own. Percy hadn't said a word about it in the nineteen years since, and when the family first met Audrey Magnolia Kettleburn, they had all been mildly surprised (surprised that there was another living soul that could tolerate Percy and, even more disgustingly, wish for romantic feelings in either direction), but they had let it drop.

Now, in this letter to Fred, his brother's charming and lamb-like wife had told the whole story. And it was nothing like he had expected. Although, his brother had changed over the last two decades. He had stopped being an incessant know-it-all, and he really adapted to his role as a husband and a father. Percy was nothing like he had been when they were in school, but George had never thought that….

George placed his sister – in – law's letter on top of the pile and ran his fingers through his hair. After he was done, he was going to have a long talk with his older brother.


	21. Lucy and Molly II Weasley's Letter

**A/N: And we are back again. This is another condensed chapter, and I apologize for that. I am currently bouncing between all my stories, trying to update as much as possible.**

 **REVIEW! (Thanks** **)**

* * *

George Weasley loved being an uncle almost as much as he loved being a father. He spoiled all his nieces and nephews just as much as he spoiled his own two kids. And he made sure that every single kid in their huge, outrageously perfect family knew that they could come to Uncle George with anything, no matter what.

He loved everyone in his family. They were like no one else. Each one of them was special, unique, and, George thought, that's what being a Weasley was all about.

George looked into the box of letters, still very full, and saw one that particularly caught his eye. There were two sets of handwriting on the envelope, one in smaller cursive and the other in a larger, darker font. George smirked and he reached to pull the letter out of the bin.

No two girls had ever really taken the world by storm like Molly II and Lucy Weasley. His older brother Percy had been terrified of having a girl when Audrey had first announced her pregnancy. George, who had already had Roxanne and Fred by this point, sat his older brother down.

" _George, what if it's a girl? I don't know how to deal with girls! I –I mean all I had were brothers. Ginny doesn't count – you know she doesn't count. Don't tell her I said that. George, you know I'm a mess with girls. I screwed up with Penelope, and it' a miracle Audrey managed to fall in love with me in the first place. What if –"_

" _Percy, stop. Calm down. For one, you two don't have any idea what the gender of the baby is, so worrying about it now is pointless. Second of all, what if it is a girl? I'm sure she'll love you just as much as the rest of us. And that is a hell of a lot. Your daughter will adore you. And for the record, you don't screw up with girls. You didn't screw up with Audrey, and now look. You're about to be a father, and give Mum even more grandchildren to spoil."_

George smiled as he remembered Percy's elation when the baby turned out to be a girl, and he had brought out little Lucy Willow Weasley out to meet the world. And then, it happened again, and then there was Molly Chrysanthemum Weasley II. George had never seen his mother filled with that much pride all at once.

Percy had ultimately thrived as a father, the role of being the know – it – all to his little girls suiting him perfectly. And, George surmised, he was about to see how much those girls really did look up to their daddy as he opened their letter.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _My name is Lucy._ **And my name is Molly. Molly II, actually. I was named after Grandma Weasley.** _Molly, stop writing over my lines! Get your own letter!_ **No, you said we could write one together and make it special!** _Fine. But stop grabbing the paper. Let's start over._ **Okay.**

Those first few lines were scratched out sloppily, though George could still read them. He laughed just imagining his two headstrong nieces trying to write one letter from the both of them, Lucy with her perfect penmanship and Molly with her untidy scrawl. The two of them together reminded George greatly of how he used to be with Fred (though he and Fred never fought half as much as the girls did).

George rolled his eyes as he skimmed further down the page to where the letter seemingly started over again, this time much neater.

 _Hello Uncle Fred. My name is Lucy, and I am writing this letter with my sister, Molly._ **We're your nieces!** _Our father is your older brother, Percy. Mum says he used to be a Ministry of Magic employee before we were born, but he quit a long time ago because it broke him. I never really understood what that meant until recently._

 _Dad told us that you were killed right next to him during that big battle nineteen years ago., and he says it was because of him. No one agrees with him, and Mum gets really angry whenever he brings it up. It being his fault, I mean. But I guess it doesn't matter, does it, what everyone else thinks? What do you think?_

 _Do you blame my Dad?_

 **Uncle Fred, please don't hate my Dad. He's really great now. He doesn't work for Mum's boss anymore, and actually is a Professor at Hogwarts, now. He's really good, too. He teaches History with Professor Binns, and also runs the new Career Counseling office there for fifth years and above.**

 _He's not a "pompous arse" or a "Humungous Bighead" anymore, Uncle Fred._ **(We might have overheard Uncle George and Dad talking once).** _We didn't have a whole lot to say besides asking you to forgive our dad, and maybe finding someway to let him know? Thanks._

 **Oh, so, before Lucy wraps up, I want to make sure you know about me and Lucy. She was born a year before me, and actually looks a lot like Mum. And she's the smart one, with her glasses and books and her nerdy Ravenclaw friends.** _(Hey!)_ **But she's a Gryffindor, like me! I guess you could say that I'm more of a wild card, and if I'm not with my friends, Thomasine Jordan or Rae Longbottom, then I'm in the kitchens with the house elves. They're actually a lot of fun. My favorite is this sweet little female named Winky. Dad and Uncle George say that you used to sneak to the kitchens all the time. Did you know her?**

 **Anyways, while Lucy looks a lot like our Mum, people have told me I look like my grandma, who I'm named after. Molly. Molly Weasley.**

 _She cried, according to Mum, when Dad came out of Saint Mungo's delivery room and announced that his second daughter was to be named Molly. Apparently, though, if either Molly or I were boys, he wanted to name us Fred, but we weren't and Uncle George got the honor to name his own son that._

 **Fred Jr. is my favorite cousin! He's so funny and he and I always beat Lucy and Roxanne at Quidditch in the summer.**

 _Mum is calling us to hurry up. She has to send our owl, Talulia, to Grandma with our letters now. So I'm going to say goodbye now._ **Me, too.**

 _Goodbye, Uncle Fred._

 **Bye. Love,**

 _Lucy_ **and Molly.**


	22. Andromedra Tonks' Letter

**A/N: I have been dying to publish this chapter. It's pretty long, but completely worth it. Thanks to everyone who has supported me this far. Please keep on reviewing and leaving your thoughts, guys. Those mean a lot to me and I read every single one, I promise.**

 **Sorry I'm so bad at ending chapters!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

George didn't really know what to expect from the next letter. He saw the writing on the envelope, and he opened the letter, and he saw the signature first, and he was stumped. It wasn't like they weren't family. She was Teddy's grandmother after all. But she had never really been family. Not before that, at least. Tonks, she had been family. And Remus. But Andromedra Tonks…

George had nothing against her. No, she was a very lovely woman, and a fantastic grandmother. And it wasn't her that he had a problem with. No, it was more of…who her family was that made him question how he felt about this particular witch.

But of course, George knew better than most that you couldn't quite well pick your family members.

George Weasley sighed and shook the piece of paper in front of him. He was genuinely wondering what this woman, who had barely known Fred, had to say in a letter after his death.

 _Maybe she's just heard about my greatness and she wrote about all that I inspired her to do during the years after the war._

Fred's voice laughed in George's one good ear, and the living Weasley twin laughed half-heartedly.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it." He said, and opened to the next interesting letter.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Weasley,_

 _Can I call you Fred? I'm going to regardless, but I thought I would at least ask first. I don't know if you would remember me – we met only a small handful of times – but my name is Andromedra Tonks. You were good friends, actually, with my daughter, Nymphandora._

 _Oh, yes that's right. "Tonks". Yes, she never did like the name I gave her. She always said it was too long, too strange, and she "didn't want to be any weirder than she already was." This from the girl who was a natural Metamorphagus and who married a werewolf._

 _Nymphandora. It's not that bad, is it? Oh, Merlin. Fred, dear, if my daughter is reading this with you, tell her I'm sorry and that I love her dearly, eccentricities and all. And, Fred, if Ted, my husband, is there, tell him that he was right and maybe we should have named her Annabeth!_

 _Anyways, there are a few things I want to talk to you about, Fred. Firstly, I don't know if you knew this, but I was a Slytherin when I was a girl at school. Shocked? You should be, seeing as I'm in no way "evil" or a Death Eater or in any way concerned with blood purity. Ugh. But you see, my family was._

 _Do you remember Bellatrix Lestrange? Her maiden name was Black, and so was mine, and our sister, Narcissa. Yes, my sisters were Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy. We three were the Slytherin girls in our family. And of course, there was Sirius, our cousin, who landed himself in Gryffindor at school, and absolute hell at home._

 _Now, Narcissa, she couldn't care less. No, she was much too concerned with her looks (pale and sickly blonde, she was) and trying to capture the attentions of one Lucius Malfoy, a prefect a few years older than us. But Bellatrix and I – well, Harry could tell you, but we looked startlingly similar as girls, almost twins, we were. But that was only on the outside._

 _Bellatrix was every bit a Slytherin – cruel, prideful, vicious, merciless. She wasn't all bad, no – she was my dearest sister. But she was stubborn and wild. Narcissa and I could never stand to her._

 _But anyways – I said that Bella was every bit a Slytherin. Cissy was, too._

 _Not me._

 _I had always known, you see, that something wasn't right. But I could never really place it. I let my sisters and my parents do as they pleased, and I never bothered to see otherwise. But finally I did. It was when Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. You see, we always assumed that every Black would always be a Slytherin, and that there was nothing else anywhere else for us. But seeing him, so happy there with his friends, not caring about the painful repercussions he would get from his mother, it changed me. It opened my mind, and my heart. I realized that everything my family stood for might be… wrong. Not that I could tell anyone, of course. These were dangerous times. But, as you know, I did my best to leave that pureblood supremacy behind._

 _Simply put, I fell in love._

 _I'm a few years older than Bella and Cissy (Bella being the youngest). So in my seventh year (Cissy was in her fifth, and Bella and Sirius were in their third), I met a boy. Yes, Ted Tonks. He was a cute Hufflepuff who, for some reason, decided to set his sights on the eldest Black sister, and a Slytherin, to boot._

 _To be fair, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins are actually decent friends, but still. Anyways. I started seeing him in secret, telling my sisters he was tutoring me in Ancient Runes. Complete crack, but they didn't know, or care. Cissy was always so self-absorbed (though she's loads better now, believe me, we've reconciled) and Bella was too busy "recruiting"._

 _Ted and I fell in love. And the very second I left Hogwarts, I moved in with him, disowning my family in one shot. Sirius was the only one who talked to me, seeing as he had basically done the same and moved in with the Potters about a year or two later._

 _So there is my story._

 _I bet you're wondering why I even told you this. To be honest, I don't know. I don't know why I'm writing this letter. Perhaps since we never got to know each other in life, I thought I'd tell you my story now, here. Maybe to say that people change. I certainly have, and I've got my sister back at last. I'm a grandmother, and to the most wonderful boy. Teddy Remus Lupin couldn't look anymore like his father or act anymore like his mother. He's absolutely wonderful – tell Remus that, will you?_

 _Thank you, Fred. I know you're watching out for my family as I am watching out for yours._

 _Love,_

 _Grandma Andromedra_

 _(P.S: I've learned to just go by "Tonks" now, too)_


	23. The Malfoy Chronicles (Part 1)

**A/N: Time is running out! Where has the summer gone? I'm starting to freak out guys! There is so little time left until school starts again and I am not ready. No!**

 **So, to help me destress, here is another heart wrenching chapter.**

 **Enjoy, and please continue to review!**

* * *

If George thought he was surprised by the last letter, he was completely shell shocked with the next one he picked up. It was completely unfamiliar handwriting, but it was the seal that caught his attention. It was in traditional red wax, but the image on the seal was of a white peacock with tinted feathers. Even though he didn't know who specifically sent the letter, he immediately knew the family. No other wizarding family took such pride, much like peacocks, like the Malfoys.

Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. They had always been an ever-present threat in the Weasley's lives, and Harry's. A family of Death Eaters, traitors, pure blood elitists, wealthy sons of bitches in George's book. Or at least, that's how he used to see them.

Lucius Malfoy, at the very least, was an all around tool. He and his father hated each other, and it always burned when Lucius always seemed to be one step ahead of them, putting Arthur in his place, one-upping every accomplishment George's dad seemed to make. The blond elitist was wealthy, stuck up, and obsessed with purity of the Malfoy line, traits he had always seemed to pass down to his arrogant son. But appearances can be deceiving.

Harry had told them what went down in the Forbidden Forest, how Narcissa had been there, and how she had lied to Voldemort and gave Harry the chance he needed to end it all. Not something George would have expected from a Malfoy. Draco, too, and how he threw Harry his wand during the final showdown between him and the Dark Lord, and how Draco hadn't moved to stand with his parents right away. George had seen the internal struggle of a boy the same age as his little brother, saw him so close to the breaking point. It just went to show him that maybe you never really knew somebody. Maybe all you ever saw was a show they put on for the world.

George knew that Narcissa and Draco had drastically changed over these last nineteen years. Narcissa had reconciled with her sister, Andromedra, and was currently working on being a loving aunt to her nephew, Teddy, as well as a grandmother to her own grandson. Molly, too, seemed to have forgiven Narcissa for all the past slights and welcomed her into their ever growing family. Draco had gotten married, and, according to Hermione, who had been invited to the wedding and attended graciously, Astoria was the sweetest, kindest woman she had met in a long time. Seems she had changed Draco for the better, too, and their son, Scorpius, was Harry's son, Albus's best friend. It was funny how much had changed since school.

Lucius was currently serving time in Azkaban prison. The mercy the Ministry extended to Narcissa and Draco didn't go so far as to reach Lucius, whose crimes greatly outweighed any good he might have done at all during the dark days.

As George ripped open the envelope, he saw the distinctly hard and famine handwriting that scrolled down that page, writing that he now recognized as the same on the birthday cards and letters Teddy received occasionally.

 _Well, who would have thought that snooty Narcissa Malfoy would be sending me condolences._

Fred's voice chirruped in his mind and George snorted, thinking that the disembodied voice of his dead brother was right. It was an odd picture, but frankly, not the oddest thing he had ever know. That would have to be Fred.

 _Hey! You know I can hear your thoughts, right? Rude._

"Well, you know what they say about eavesdroppers." George remarked.

 _They should use Extendable Ears to lessen the hassle? Or how about that being a ghost makes it easier to exact revenge._

"You're impossible."

 _I think the word you're looking for here is, adorable._

George sighed and simply shook the paper in his hands to quiet his brother's voice before he began to read this unexpected letter.

* * *

 _Dear Mr Fred Weasley,_

 _To my knowledge, we have never spoken. In fact, I hardly remember you at all. Perhaps I saw you once, possibly at the Quidditch World Cup or at one of my son's Quidditch games where Slytherin played opposite Gryffindor. For my lack of memories of you, I apologize. That is entirely my own fault. Let me explain._

 _To understand me, and everything I did in the time you might have known me, or my name perhaps, you would have to understand what it was like for me when I was growing up. Of course, you know of my family history, whether from Grimmauld Place or of what Andromedra told you._

 _I was born Narcissa Eloise Black. My cousins were Sirius and Regulus Black, and my sisters were Andromedra and Bellatrix. We were powerful family, you see, us Blacks. All of us were pure blood wizards, and all of us were Slytherins. That was the family legacy. Andromedra was the first to go to school, and when she was sorted, everyone was so proud and they expected nothing less from the rest of us. If I'm being honest, I would say that I never really cared about any of that. Not the sorting, or the honor, any of it. I was the blonde, pretty Black sister. Medra and Bella were basically twins, with their dark hair and solemn demeanors. I was like a bright light in that dark place we called home. Sirius and Regulus, too, so dark. I just liked being seen as if I was the sun. Anything else was boring. But I couldn't possibly say that, and no matter what I might say in defense, I could be just as vicious as Bellatrix when it became me. So I was sorted next into Slytherin. Then came Bella, and Sirius. And that's when things changed._

 _You know, of course, that Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor where he met James Potter and Lily Evans and so on, and so forth. But you never knew the hell that came out of that one fiasco. Sirius was beaten - they made us all watch so we would know what would happen if any of us ever dishonored the family and all that we stood for. Regulus made a point of becoming a Slytherin and became aggressive in that account. Sirius was driven from the family. And the rest of us, we were pressured to be more and more on the darker side._

 _I was arranged in a marriage with my long time sweetheart, Lucius Malfoy. He also came from a distinguished family, and when he proposed, our families arranged a swift and beautiful wedding. I love Lucius, I do, but he was ambitious. He pressed all his ideals on me, and I went along with it simply because I didn't want to lose him. You will never know, but he is my true love. It sounds so girly to say, but it's true. he was, and is, wonderful to me. And when we had Draco, everything became so much more real. I had this precious life to take care of and protect, no matter the cost._

 _Now, at this time, the Dark Lord was rising to power, and he was calling to all those who might wish to follow him. Our family was obsessed with this powerful man who would restore the pureness in wizarding bloodlines. You know what we chose._

 _I am not defending myself, Fred. I am not defending my choices. I simply wish for you to understand. I have told all of this to Teddy, and I have reconciled with my sister, Andromedra, who I also had disowned for years after she married that Hufflepuff half-wit, Ted Tonks. But when Teddy told me about what your mother was doing, I wished to write this letter and tell you how sorry I was._

 _I am sorry that I raised my son in the image of his father's ideals. I am sorry of all the trouble it might have caused you and your family in school. I am sorry that I wasn't able to stand up and fight my own battles. I am sorry that I had to learn this by losing my husband to twenty six years in prison (only nineteen of which have been served so far) and almost losing my son. I am sorry that your mother had to lose you. I am sorry for ever siding with Voldemort in the first place, who used my baby boy to his own devices._

 _I hope that you could find it in your heart to forgive me, as your mother has done. I may not have known you in life, Fred Weasley, but I truly regret that I will never have the chance._

 _If you see my cousin, Sirius, please apologize to him for me. I was awful to him, and I hurt him._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Narcissa Malfoy._

* * *

"Wow." George breathed. "That was certainly unexpected."

 _Felt more like one of Binn's history lessons to me._

 _"_ Fred, knock it off." George admonished the voice in his ear. "It must have taken a lot for her to write everything down like that."

There was no response, which George took to mean that he had won that internal argument. He placed Narcissa's letter on the pile of opened letters, which was growing minute by minute, and took out another. If it was like anything else he had read today, George figured that the next letter would simply be a continuation of the Malfoy Chronicles.


	24. The Malfoy Chronicles (Part 2)

**A/N: I'm still waiting on some of those reviews….pretty please!**

 **So**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. All credit goes to J.K Rowling.**

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _I am…so sorry._

 _I know, that doesn't make anything okay. Saying those words doesn't change the fact that I was a complete asshole to you and your family. It doesn't erase the thousands of bad decisions I have made in my life. It doesn't change the fact that you died fighting for what you believed in and I'm living because I was a coward. It doesn't change anything._

 _But I'm hoping that it can be a start._

 _You were all "Weasley" to me, and I have no doubt that I was always "Malfoy." I'd like to change that. Can you be Fred, and can I be Draco? Just that. I've already started trying to mend things with the rest of your family. Can we try it to?_

 _I'm sorry if this letter sucks. I don't have too much practice saying anything with feelings._

 _Anyways, like I was saying, I've already started trying to mend things with your family. My mother has reconciled with her sister and her nephew, Teddy Remus Lupin, who has graciously befriended my son, his cousin, Scorpius. Your mother, too, has extended open arms to us, knitting us these very thick and surprisingly comfortable sweaters with our first initials on the front. You got those every year? Wow._

 _Harry and I also made amends, seeing as his son and mine are close friends. He also might have saved my life back during the war, on multiple occasions, and I never properly thanked him for that. Who wold have thought, after all these years, we would actually be decent friends and extended family. It absolutely boggles the mind._

 _Ron and I don't quite get along, although perhaps that stems from my inviting Hermione, his wife, to my wedding and having her attend without him. I did extend an invite to him as well, but it seemed her refused. I don't blame him, though. I was awful. The worst kind of Slytherin, the absolute stereotype parents warn their children about. I hope one day we might be able to patch things up, but I won't push it. I like being a part of a real family for once._

 _Hermione and I are actually alright. She apologized for slapping me in third year, and I apologized for…well, everything else. I told her everything. I told her that nothing was an excuse, only an explanation. Maybe that's why she came. Because for once, I had actually been completely honest. Not just to her, but with myself._

 _Oh, before I forget, I got married to Astoria Greengrass. She was also in Slytherin, about two years below me. Believe me, I never thought I would ever get married, but Astoria is different. For one thing, she's a half blood. Not something my family would have even considered twenty years ago. For another, she doesn't take any of my bullshit. She calls me on it, challenges me, and best of all, she loves me anyway. Don't know how, or why, but she does. She's made me a better person, and best of all, she's helping me not make the same mistakes my father (unintentionally) made with me. I love her for that. I owe her for that._

 _I've tried talking to George, but frankly, I can't. What can I say? Like I said, sorry just doesn't cut it._

 _Can I say that my whole life has been a lie? No. Can I say that everything I ever said, or everything I had ever done, was just one big show to mask my jealousy over everything that you had? That even though I had money and my family had status, I didn't have an overly loving father or siblings, or the warmth and love that your family had, so that was why I was such a bastard? No. Can I say how I was afraid with every day that someone would find out that I was pressured by my father into being a Death Eater, and only my mother kept me sane? Or that my father tried to protect me, but all he did was make more mistakes?_

 _I can't say any of that out loud._

 _I know this letter sucks. I don't have much experience with any sentimental crap. Astoria is slowly bringing that side out of me, though._

 _Sorry again Fred,_

 _(if that even counts for anything)_

 _Draco Malfoy._

* * *

George was stunned. He never, in a million years, would have expected that from that little bullying twerp. But nineteen years can really change somebody. Hermione had attended his wedding, much to all of their protestations, but she said it was actually very lovely, and that he wasn't the same kid he had been in school. She was right, and now George felt kind of bad for never giving Draco the chance to apologize, and not only for Fred. He had blown him off again and again, saying that he didn't need any crap for being so sentimental. If he had only known…

Looking down at the thick envelope in his hand, George laid Draco's letter aside and pulled two more slips of paper from the opening. After reading Narcissa's, George had been waiting for the rest of the family's to appear. He didn't expect one from Lucius, who probably didn't feel too kindly towards anyone right now, not with the dementors at every cell. Narcissa's had been surprising but not entirely unexpected. And George knew that the letter from Scorpius was doubtless. But the one from Draco, and now the one from Astoria in his hand…he didn't know how to feel, not only for himself, but for his brother.

 _How about honored that the almighty pompous Malfoy line has indeed blessed us with their blondness?_

"Shut up." George snapped at his brother's voice. "You know they're not that bad anymore."

 _Yeah. I guess. The kid is decent enough for Rose, and that wife of Malfoy's is quite the bombshell. Don't tell Angelina I said that. She'd kill me when she finally gets the chance._

George laughed at the image of his wife passing to the great beyond only to the his spitting image grinning to her - and she promptly smacking him senseless. He would die right alongside her just to witness that moment.

 _Hey! You're supposed to be on my side here._

"Ah. But she's my wife."

 _She was my ex-girlfriend before she was your wife. So I think I have the right to trump your betrayal._

"You always were a stubborn arse." George huffed, shaking his head to try and rid himself of the annoying argument he seemed to be having with himself. "Can I please continue? We've been up here for two hours and we've barely made a dent in the stupid pile. I'd like to try and finish something before the sun sets."

 _Fine. Whatever._

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _Hello. My name is Astoria Isabel Greengrass. Or, actually, that's what it used to be. My name now is Astoria Isabel Malfoy. You never knew me, I don't think, but you certainly knew my husband, Draco, and his family._

 _Though you, nor your family, probably ever heard my name, I heard plenty about you, Fred Weasley. I was actually two years behind Draco in school (so that makes it four years behind you and George), but you were legends, even in Slytherin House. Despite my sorting, however, I fully enjoyed all of your pranks, even if it was at my own expense. You know why? Even when it was done out of cruelty and spite, to get back at the Slytherins for their arrogance and elitist views, it was funny! You and your brother made people laugh, especially when things got dark. To me, the ability to make others laugh no matter when is one of the greatest skills a person can possess. I loved you guys just for that._

 _As I said before, I was two years behind my husband, Draco. Obviously, we never really connected during the school years. He occasionally passed me by in the hallways, and sometimes he would catch me alone in the common room and we'd share a word or two. But he and I never clicked at school. He was much above me, and I chose to spend my times with some Hufflepuff girls I had befriended early on in my school days. I always thought the Sorting Hat had made a mistake with me, placing me in Slytherin when everything they stood for was so far against my own beliefs. I realize now it did it on purpose._

 _Let me explain. This happened about three years after the battle had ended. I was out of school and getting ready to start my intern position at my father's shop in Dragon Alley, Greengrass Roots. We run and exotic plant shop, specializing in Herbology ingredients and specimens. I love plant life, and Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures were my best subjects in school, so I wished to focus my attentions where my strengths were._

 _It was back in Diagon Alley where I met Draco again._

 _I was passing by your joke shop, actually, when I bumped into him. The shop was closed, something that still unnerved a good many people. Your brother hadn't reopened it yet, still grieving over your death. He would, though, later that month. But in that moment, it was standing gloomily and faded at the corner center of the Alley. I tended to pass by it on my way to work every morning, just so I could see that nine foot tall image of you or George and remember the brief moments back at school when you simply reigned havoc on us all, and missing you terribly, both back then and right now._

 _I wasn't paying attention and suddenly I walked straight into someone and fell right on my backside on the concrete. And I looked up and saw a familiar, beautiful blonde face peering down at me in concern and, yes, astonishment._

 _I will skip some of the more awkward details. I'm sure Draco doesn't remember this as clearly as I do. But I apologized, and he simply huffed in his characteristic, haughty way that was always so becoming to him. And, I don't know why, but I just lost it. I just started to yell at him. I don't even know what I said. All I know is that when I finished, he looked like he had just been sucker punched in the stomach, and I turned to storm away from him with tears in my eyes and that was when he asked me out._

 _I, of course, said yes._

 _I know how you felt about him. I know how most people felt about him, about all Slytherins. And for the most part, you were right. Draco was a pompous arrogant asshole, with elitist ideals and his daddy's money and the mansion and the self superiority that went along with a cushy upbringing. I, like so many women before me, decided that I could change him._

 _I was determined that no matter what he said to me, whether in anger or spite or anything, if it was offensive to me or other people, I was not going to sit idly by. I did just that. I told him off overtime he did some idiotic bigot thing and I yelled and I stormed and I tried to challenge him to think outside the views that had been pressed into him since before birth. I could tell that he wanted to change, that he wasn't happy with who he had been. I wanted to be an outlet for him. So I tried a different approach. I sat down with him one night, a few months after we had started dating (I never gave up on us) and told him all about me. About how I came from a Muggle father and a witch mother, about how my mother died when I was twelve and how my father had to manage trying to hide me from those in his world, about how he was always too scared to remarry in case the new woman couldn't understand. I told him about how kind my father was, and how I grew up singing and dancing, and how even though I was everything a Slytherin wasn't, that i was more a Hufflepuff than anything else, I was still sorted into that House._

 _I remember he was looking at me with these dark eyes, and he asked me how it was that I could be so good yet still be associated with the dark? How I could possibly associate myself with him?_

 _And I said,_

 _Whoever said that Slytherins were evil? Being told you are one thing does not make you that thing. Pride does not make us evil, it makes us confidant, and also vulnerable. Cunning does not mean trickery. It means cleverness when everything else seems a dead end. Determination doesn't mean throwing everyone down who gets in your way. It just means that the obstacles put there will help us get through. And you….you, Draco Malfoy, have overcome so many obstacles. You are good. Misunderstood, but good. I plan to prove that not only to you, but to the world._

 _He kissed me for the first time that night._

 _Sorry, sorry! Way too much information, but really! And you know what, after that night he really started to change. He even called his own parents out on their outdated behavior. Im so proud of who he has become. And when we had Scorpius, I don't think I have seen him so in awe. He is a wonderful father and I wish you could see him because I know you would see how much he has changed._

 _He's not that immature schoolboy anymore._

 _So if you find it in your heart to forgive him, I would be so thankful to you. And maybe tell your brother to consider it as well._

 _A loving mother and wife,_

 _Astoria Malfoy._

* * *

George didn't quite know how to react to that last letter. It was a lot of, frankly, personal information to swallow, and he had a hard time wrapping his mind around everything he had read about Draco. Sure, he knew the boy well enough now as an adult to get over their petty school rivalry, and admittedly, he had he hadn't really known what he had gone through to get to that point.

"Wow." George whistled. "Just…wow. Eh, Freddie boy?"

But his brother was silent. He was talking to himself now. Great.

George sighed and tossed Astoria's letter aside. He stood and arched his back, smirking at the cracks and pops that motion released. He rolled his neck, his arms, every joint and muscle he could think of that was sore from sitting in the exact same spot for the last who knows how many hours. George looked at his wristwatch (a gift from Fred from their anniversary of opening the joke shop - well, actually the anniversary of actually starting to make a profit from their various inventions) and saw, with astonishment, that he had only been up here reading for two hours.

"Two hours?" he muttered. "That's it? Merlin, I might as well have taken a damn time turner with me here."

 _Can't. Hermione destroyed them all when the Golden Catastrophe stormed the Ministry. Without us, I might add!_

"Oh, so now you have something to say?" George huffed. "Where were you ten minutes ago, hm? Now that your dead you just show up whenever you prefer, not when I need you around so I don't go freaking insane? Hm?"

 _Stop whining you big blubbering baby. Open the next letter. It's not just endless fun and fish sticks over here! I got places to be, people to haunt, you know the drill. Come on, I bet it's disgustingly adorable._

Rolling his eyes, George pulled out the third slip of parchment from the envelope that the Malfoy's had sent. The writing on this one was smaller and more cramped, the font wobbly and zigzagging all over the place. He had to have been writing this while on his broom, George swore. No way any child had penmanship that bad. Even Fred and George had decent legible writing when they were younger.

"Ah, Scorpius." he sighed. "What have you got to say?"

* * *

 _Dear Sir,_

 _Um, well, I didn't really know what to call you. I mean, I could call you Fred. But that's too informal, don't you think? And I could call you Mr. Weasley, but your not that either, are you? Not really. No one I've met has ever called you "Mister". Albus said I could call you "Uncle Fred", cause your family's really big, and everyone seems to lose track of everyone else. Is that alright by you? I kind of like it. Uncle Fred. I have an Uncle Fred. Wicked!_

 _Oh, um, so my name is Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. You and may dad went to school together, although he was a few years behind you. Albus said that his dad and my dad were in the same year, if that helps. Oh, and Albus is Albus Severus Potter. Anyway, so I guess I am sort of related to you, since my dad's mother's sister is Andromedra Tonks, who's the grandmother of Teddy Remus Lupin, who is basically Albus's older brother. So I'm sort of related to the Potters, you could say. By extension. Cool, huh?_

 _I don't really know what to write. I don't think any of us kids do. I mean, I never met you. Most of us haven't. And I've only met your brother (should I call him Uncle George?) a few times, so I can't really say I know him, either. Hm. This does pose considerable problems for the point of this letter._

 _Oh, I know! So, when I was over at Albus's house, we were talking to his dad and mum about you. This was shortly before this whole writing letters thing, so everyone was on the topic about you and all you did and whatnot. And then Roxanne's mum, Angelina came in and was laughing with Rose's mum about how much of a charmer and a "ladies man" you and Uncle George always were._

 _Were you really a ladies man? If so, I'd like to pose a personal dilemma to you. I know you can't really respond, but maybe if you could slip a solution to me when I least expect it (I've read that ghosts can do that, like in people's dreams and stuff) I'd really appreciate it._

 _See there's this girl. She's the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing, funny witch that ever lived. At least, to me. Problem is, she's not only a Gryffindor, but she's so far out of my league that I doubt she'll ever notice me. And that's even the half of it._

 _She's also Albus's cousin._

 _Yep. You guessed it. I'm in love with Rose Granger-Weasley._

 _Now you might say that I'm too young to be in love. My mother says that to me all the time. But I'm not too young to know that there's something special about this girl. That's what my father says. It's sort of confusing, which is why I'm writing this letter, I guess. Albus says that his dad said that his Uncle George said that you were always really good with other people's problems. So there's mine._

 _Um…I don't really know how to end this so…yeah._

 _Bye,_

 _Scorpius Malfoy_


	25. James Sirius Potter's Letter

**A/N: I secretly love Draco. He's such an angst ridden character and that is just delicious to me as a writer and a reader. Is that wrong? I think not. But now we're moving on.** **Sorry this is so short.**

 **I don't own anything from HP.**

 **Enjoy! And review! I mean, come on. Please?**

* * *

George was exhausted. And not only physically - he was mentally and emotionally drained. Reading letter after letter, hardly making a single dent in that stupid box, really took it out of him and he honestly could not wrap his mind around anything anymore. What was the point of this? So other people were touched by Fred in his life. So other people, a lot of other people, missed him and were affected by him. So what? He was dead, and no amount of consoling words, whether aloud or on paper, was going to change that fact. So what was the point of them in the first place?

George tossed aside the Malfoy letters and stood up again, completely ignoring the box still sitting mostly full on his bed, this time making his way to the door.

"I'll just tell her I finished." he muttered to himself. "She won't go in there. She hasn't ever since….well, I'll be sure to open the rest later. I just can't spend one more minute reading the same stupid _I'm sorry's_ over and over.."

 _Well, I'm offended._

"Sod off." George snapped at the voice of his brother, effectively shutting him up. He couldn't stand to be in this small, cramped room - he couldn't be where his brother wasn't. That had always been the case. The letters that were supposed to help were doing a damn fine job of making him feel worse. So he's lie to his mother and hide the box. Yeah, that's what he'd do. Hide the box. "I'm done."

 _Oh, no you aren't, Georgie dearest._ Fred's voice was mocking. _That's not how this is going to work._

"Oh, shut it." George said again, this time making his way to the door of his bedroom. "What are you going to do about it, hm? You can't make me read the damn things anymore, and you sure as hell can't make me stay here."

 _Want to bet?_

Before he even knew what was happening, there was a sudden gust of wind that whirled through the room, blowing George's hair around his face and nearly knocking him off his feet. Confused, George looked back at the closed window and then back around the room, where everything seemed untouched. Even the letters remained in their piles. He shrugged, still suspicious, but he figured his brother's voice was just a bluff. That is, until he reached the door.

The second he touched the handle, he was shoved backwards with such force that he landed, hard, on his back, looking a lot like an ungraceful turtle, he was sure.

"What the hell?" he sputtered.

 _I told you. You are not just going to leave and lie to Mum. You know you have to finish what you started. Hasn't that always been our motto?_

"Fred, seriously, what the hell?" George growled. "Let me out."

 _You're not even listening to me. Read the goddamn letters, and then you can leave._

"They're just letters." he whispered, still offended that his own brother, albeit his dead brother, was holding him hostage in their old room.

 _You know that's not true._

And strangely, he did know that. He knew how meaningful they were to each person who wrote one, how important they would be to Fred, and how important they were to his mother. George didn't really know what they were supposed to be for him, but he knew he wouldn't be able to lie to everyone he ever met, knowing some things but not others, having them all believe he had read very word when instead, here he was, running away like that hurt, scare twenty year old he had been when this had all begun. Sighing, George hung his head and turned away from the ghostly barricaded door.

 _There's a good Georgie._

George gave half hearted glare in his mind, aiming it at his imagined face of his brother, before reaching in with reluctance and apprehension. Who would write next? An old friend? An old enemy? A teacher?

Turns out, none of the above.

* * *

 _Uncle Fred,_

 _Hello. My name is James Sirius Potter. My dad says he named me after his own dad, and also after his dad's best friend, who was my dad's godfather. Kind of confusing, I know, but believe me, that's what happens in our crazy family. Everyone's named after everyone else._

 _My dad says that James Potter and Sirius Black were best friends when they were kids, like brothers. He said they were wild and mischievous and loyal and hilarious and beyond description. Which is odd, cause I know that my dad's dad was dead before he ever knew him, and Sirius Black was considered a criminal for years, and then my dad barely knew him as he was before he died, too. (What is it with my dad and death? Do they have a deal or something? Every story of his form school seems to have something like that in it.)_

 _Anyways, since I didn't really understand a lot about what my dad (Harry, in case you didn't know) told me, I asked Hagrid (you remember him?) about them once, and he said that they were just like you and Uncle George when you guys were in school. Now, I never knew you Uncle Fred, and Uncle George doesn't seem like the hell-raiser he used to be, but when I mentioned this to Hagrid, he got all sad and teary and I left. I guess you meant a lot to him._

 _I don't want to seem like I'm just repeating things my dad said, but you know he was Harry Potter after all, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and all that, so he pretty much knows everything. But don't tell Aunt Hermione I said that._

 _But anyways, my dad said that James Potter and Sirius Black, along with Teddy Lupin's dad, Remus, were The Marauders. Oh, yeah, I know all about them. He gave Teddy's the map when he was in his third year, and Teddy gave it to me this year, since I'm about to start my third year. My dad said it was, like, a rite of passage or whatever, and he got the map from you and Uncle George. Can you believe that we're related to the makers of this scrap of genius?! Are you with them? Are you a Marauder, too, now, Uncle Fred? I know that Wormtail is most likely kicked out of the group, so if there's a space to fill, fill it! My dad says you already have, but I want to make sure. And I'm sure that Uncle George would love to know that you're up there having fun and that you're happy. Of course, I hope you miss us a ton, too. But don't be sad, because my dad says that you're not really gone. You just started the next adventure. Like I said, my dad knows everything, so he's got to be right. Right?_

 _We read about him, and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, in school, and all the books say he's a hero, and Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione. They even mention Grandma Weasley, since she was the one to finally kill Bellatrix Lestrange. Apparently, Professor Longbottom sends her flowers every year on the anniversary. And not just a small bouquet either, like an entire field._

 _One day, though, my dad came to Hogwarts to talk in Professor Binn's lesson. And he said that he wasn't a hero. He had been seventeen, trying to do the right thing and make up for mistakes that he had made, trying to get revenge for people he had inadvertently gotten killed. He was a kid. The real heroes, he said, were the ones who had sacrificed their lives that night, nineteen years ago, like his brother, Fred. And he mentioned Teddy's parents, and he mentioned his parents and his godfather, and he mentioned teachers and friends who had died. But he came back to you, Fred. His brother. My Uncle. You were the one who died too young._

 _You're a hero._

 _I wish I had known you, Uncle Fred, the way the rest of my family has. Well, not us kids, but the adults. But I know Uncle George, and my mom is absolutely wild, and I have uncles who tame dragons and break curses and fight and hunt and act crazy with us kids, so I feel okay. I feel I know you, kind of, through them._

 _Please keep having adventures where you are, and say hi to Grandma Lily and Grandpa James and Uncle Sirius and Uncle Remus and Aunt Tonks._

 _Your nephew,_

 _J.S Potter._

George didn't know how to feel, really. On one hand, James' letter made him laugh a little. In reality, James Sirius Potter was those boys rolled into one, with a dash of Harry and Ginny. It made him one sweet, adorable, hurricane of a kid, and George loved babysitting him, watching James and Fred Jr roar with laughter as they experimented with some of the incoming items from the shop. And when Teddy got involved…look out. It was as if the Marauders were alive again, and George could see so much more than the stupid map.

But on the other hand, the fact that George wasn't the hell-raiser he used to be, and that James wasn't sure if he even knew his uncle in the first place, really hit him hard. What had happened to him?

 _Well, that's pretty obvious, isn't it? You lost me. That would change anyone. In fact, it did._

"You arse." George huffed, but his brother was right. He had let his brother's death change him drastically. It shouldn't have happened like it did, but it did. And he knew it was the only way he knew how to cope. "What if it's too late? To change? To let go?"

 _You're not done yet, George._

No, he wasn't.

 _You're not done yet._


	26. Albus Severus Potter's Letter

**A/N: Hello again. Sorry if I haven't been updating the stories you guys want me to, but these chapters are easier than the ones for my other stories, so I'm doing the easy stuff first.**

 **This chapter is short. Sorry, but I'm rushing and I wanted to get the next letter up. I'll make the next one longer, I promise.**

 **Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or any such references to anything J.K Rowling.**

 **Review please and thank you!**

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _My name is Albus Severus Potter. Merlin, I know it's a mouthful, but apparently my dad is extremely sentimental. So is my mum, but she'd sock you before she'd ever admit that, something I think you and Uncle George are avidly aware of._

 _I'm sure by now you've received over a dozen letters from my family. Now your reading mine, and I'm sure that they all say basically the same thing:_ We miss you, thank you, we love you, hope your watching over us… _I'll try and stay away from the cliches, okay? Make this something of an original._

 _Um, so if my dad is right (and James will always say he is), then you are actually going to see what I've written. So I guess that means I actually have to tell you stuff, right, and not just pretend for Grandma Weasley. I'm good at pretending, you know. Or maybe you don't._

 _I was sorted into Slytherin. After everything everyone said, about how Gryffindor was in my blood or how I could ask the Sorting Hat not to put me where I really didn't want to go. It didn't matter, because it didn't listen, and in front of everyone - my brother, the teachers, everyone who saw me as another Potter kid - it yelled Slytherin. And suddenly, everything changed. Or it did for me._

 _Don't get me wrong, nothing happened. No one would dare to try anything against the son of Harry Potter. Plus, my brother James was sort of a legend already in school, and anyone who messed with me, messed with him. James was brilliant. He didn't care that I was in his "enemy house". He was always my big brother, and that never changed. He even got his friends to stop picking on me. Too bad he couldn't stop the rest of the school._

 _It wasn't all that bad, you know? I mean, my family was really supportive. Apparently, my dad could have been in Slytherin. And his godfather, whose family was all Slytherin, was actually in Gryffindor. My dad said maybe the Sorting Hat saw something in me that no one else could see yet. So I never felt like I was alienated in my family. Everything was the same - grades, friends, sports, classes. It was just a feeling, I guess._

 _People whispered._

He's nothing like his father.

How does something like that happen?

Imagine - the Chosen One's kid turning evil.

Maybe he'll turn against him.

 _Idiots, all of them. But still, it hurt. I haven't told my parents about that. I'm sure Dad would march right down there and tell everyone off, and Mum would go ballistic. I don't even want to imagine was Grandma Weasley would do, not to mention my uncles. Teddy, too, just turned eighteen and he's a triple threat: overprotective, a werewolf father and a Metamorphous mother. Not to mention one was a Marauder and the other was an off-the-rails Auror._

 _It was Scorpius and his family that helped me out a lot. Not to say that my (our) family wasn't great, by you've all been Gryffindors forever. Scorpius and his family have all been Slytherins, and maybe not nice ones up until his mother._

 _His mother was the one to tell me that being a Slytherin doesn't immediately make me evil. She told me that the decisions I would make would define me, not the House itself._

"You know, I never got the point of Sorting." _she said to me once._ "All it does it regulate your color pattern."

 _She's right. Sometimes I had always felt like a black sheep: I wasn't that much interested in pranks or jokes, and I'm not the top of my class, and I'm not that good at Quidditch. Playing it, I mean. I understand it well enough, and I've even developed some of my own strategies (which I give to James to test out). I'm sullen, withdrawn, moody and shy. Nothing like my dad - or so I thought._

 _After I talked with Scorpius's mum, I talked with my dad. She suggested that I do that, and so did my mum. And you know what he said to me?_

"When I was your age, I was terrified that i wouldn't be good enough. That I wouldn't be what everyone was expecting me to be. When I was twelve, I thought I might be a monster - and so did everyone else. When I was thirteen, I thought my dad's best friend was trying to kill me. When I was fourteen, someone was really trying to kill me. When I was fifteen, I was almost possessed and it made me so angry all of the time. When i was sixteen, I realized that I had to save the world. When I was seventeen, I died. And then came back and saved the world. Basically, son, my life is pretty screwed up. So I know exactly how you feel."

 _Boy, was my dad a messed up kid. Somehow though, that makes me feel loads better. Did you ever know this? Probably. From what I know of Uncle George, and assuming you're just like him, there probably wasn't a lot that went on in Hogwarts that you guys didn't know about. yeah I know about the map. James uses it to sneak down to the Slytherin common rooms to hang with me when I'm feeling particularly gloomy._

 _The reason I've told you all of this was because I know you won't judge me. You won't look at me everyday and wonder if I'm alright. If Dad's right, you'll already be watching me, and you'll already know. I'm not always so…forthcoming with what I feel. Anyone can tell you that. But you're family._

 _I have a huge family, but the one that's just mine is me, my dad and mum, my brother James and my sister, Lily. Yeah, everyone else is part of it, but there are days when it's just us five (plus Teddy, but he's moved out now, though he's basically an older brother) that I love. Dad will be home from work on time, Mum won't have a game, James will sling an arm around my shoulders and Lily will lay across our laps, pining us to the couch while Mum and Dad laugh and dance in the kitchen while we watch TV. Those are my favorites days._

 _Thanks for listening. Or reading._

 _Your nephew,_

 _A.S Potter_


	27. Lily Luna Potter's Letter

**A/N: I love the reviews you guys leave omg. All of you are super sweet, and I hope you continue to leave comments and messages on this story. If you have something private or personal to say, leave me a PM. I will almost always answer.**

 **Thanks, and enjoy!**

* * *

George put Albus's letter right on top of James' before moving to crack the muscles in his neck, which was starting to become stiff again. The joints in his fingers, too, and he popped them mercilessly. He hadn't done so much reading since….well, actually, George didn't think he ever had done this much reading before in his life. Even at school, he and Fred had aways managed to get by on lucky guesses and charming their way into seeing some of Hermione's study answers. Whatever got them out of homework and back into inventing the fastest, they did it. Up until Umbridge (or as they called her, Um-bitch), where he and Fred had simultaneously declared _SCREW IT_ and left. School had been tough their last two years, he supposed, but never unmanageable. And he and Fred had been well liked, by everyone. Seems his young nephew didn't really have it as good as he had.

It made George uneasy hearing how the kids at school thought he might one day become evil. That was completely unfair to put on a kid - though, as Harry said, everyone thought Harry Potter was the Heir to Slytherin his second year, and spent most of the time terrified he would kill them all. George huffed. Ridiculous, but that's just how kids were. At least Albus had his friend, and his big brother.

Now James, he was a good kid. Sure he messed around a lot (but look who he was related to!), but he was sweet and well-intentioned and clearly he looked out of his little brother, despite being in the "enemy house". And Teddy, too, took on the role of "overprotective adoptive older brother" to a T. George remembered when Teddy wrote home to all of them, saying that he got into Hufflepuff. They couldn't have been more proud (unless he had been Gryffindor of course), but his mother had been a Hufflepuff, so they supposed it was a family trait. They tried to do the same by Albus, and reading his letter, George saw that they nearly succeeded. It was hard to change so many old fashioned minds, even nineteen years after things had begun changing.

"What a strange and wonderful family we are, Fred." George sighed. "What have I got - twenty six letters done already? And yet, there's what? Forty more? Merlin's baggy Y-fronts this is exhausting!"

 _Honestly, yeah. But you know how much I love my fan mail._

"Fred, these are condolence letters. As in, "sorry you're dead"."

 _And they should be sorry. I would have been the best uncle in the world to these kids! Imagine - Uncle Fred! The world's greatest prankster and escape artist!_

"Escape artist?"

 _Escaping from angry mothers and sister-in-laws is a valuable talent, dear George. Ah, I would have been great._

"Yeah." George chuckled. "You would have."

 _And maybe I'd have had kids of my own, you know? Wouldn't that have been something? Me, a father._

"Hey, watch it. I'm a father, and so is Ron Even Percy." George defended. "Besides, who'd you even marry? Angelina ended up with me, after all."

 _Yeah yeah, rub it in. Maybe I'd snag that pretty Muggle girl in the village you used to fancy, hm?_

"Shut up, you." George blushed, remembering faintly of his small crush on the girl who worked in the Muggle magic shop who was always so fascinated at his seemingly perfect card tricks. It had been too easy, but he loved seeing the excitement and wonder on her dimpled face. "Anyways, kids, huh?"

 _Ah, George. I can imagine it, clear as day. I'd have four, so there's be two of each, you know. Two boys and two girls. I even have the names - Katie Angelina Weasley…._

"They'd love that." George let himself pretend that his brother was really there, and he pretended he could see his wife's face when Fred told her that he was naming his daughter after her, his first real girlfriend who had become his best friend (and sister-in-law). Katie, too, would have been ecstatic.

 _And then there would have been Isabella Hermione…._

George didn't know where the Isabella came from, but Hermione….she would have been so honored to have Fred's daughter have a part of her name. George felt that if that had happened, it would have solidified her place in their family, and there was nothing Hermione Granger -Weasley valued more than her family.

 _And then there would have been the boys. The first, of course, would be William Charles._

George laughed out loud at that. He could just picture his older brothers' faces when they heard that - both of them hated their formal names, which is why their nicknames had stuck for so long: Bill and Charlie, rather than William and Charles. Fred naming one of his sons after both of them, and with their formal names, would wage a war of emotions for both of his secretly sentimental brothers that would have been a real sight to see. Their mother, of course, would be so happy, but Bill and Charlie would be mixed with annoyance and real pride. It was a classic Fred move, and George wished terribly that it could have been real.

 _And finally, my little boy, George Arthur._

George knew he was crying - he couldn't help it. Doubtless, Fred would have named his son after his twin. George had done the same. And the middle name being his father's - it would have made their dad weep. If only things had been different…if only….

 _Can you imagine? Katie Angelina, Isabella Hermione, William Charles and George Arthur. They sound like names out of a Muggle History book, but dammit Georgie, I would have been so good at being a dad._

"I know you would have, Freddie." George wiped the tear tracks from his ruddy face. "You would have been the best. Having them help out at the store, going to every Quidditch match, celebrating every birthday as if it was Christmas. You would have been so good at it, buddy."

 _Stop blubbering. Your making me get all grey. Go on and read the next letter._

George huffed and wiped at his face again. It was just like Fred to try and change the subject once they got all touchy-feely. Though he and his brother were close, emotional sharing wasn't really their top priority half the time. Anything serious was always basically on the edge of a joke, but neither of them needed to be anything but joking. They had always understood each other perfectly.

He pulled the next letter off the top of the pile, not too surprised to see Harry's youngest child, and only daughter's handwriting.

Lily Luna Potter. Possibly the sweetest girl ever in existence. She had thin wavy red hair, greeneyes, and a wanderlust that rivaled the woman whose middle name she took. Lily was fascinated with her Aunt Luna, and adored listening to her imaginative descriptions of invisible creatures and fairies and all that. Lily was a girl who seemed to have a sensible head on her shoulders (like her father) but could immediately turn into a dreamer (like her mother, though more when she was a teenager. Adult Ginny Weasley was a spitfire for sure, but mostly on the paying field).

Lily Luna was a darling child, the same age as Ron's son, Hugo, with two years until school. What could she really say? George cursed himself for even thinking that. If there was one thing he had learned from the last….twenty-six letters, is that he should never underestimate anyone in his family. They had a habit of unpleasant surprises.

* * *

 _Dear Uncle Fred,_

 _Hi! I'm your niece, Lily Luna Potter. I am nine years old. My mother is Ginny Potter, as in THE GINNY POTTER, of the Hollyhead Harpies. She said she's your sister, and that you were the one to start her playing Quidditch. Thanks for that. She's awesome. And my dad is Harry Potter, as in THE HARRY POTTER, the hero of the wizarding world. Cool, huh? I'm the daughter of two celebrities. That makes me practically a princess. That's what Grandma says, anyways, and no one messes with Grandma Weasley._

 _So, I was named after my daddy's mother, Lily Evans. Apparently, she was sisters with my Great Auntie Petunia. We're both named after flowers, isn't that odd? I never get to see her very much. She and Great Uncle Vernon don't like a lot of visitors, and the only time we ever really get to see them is when we go visit Uncle Dudley and our cousins, Chelsea and Abigail. They're not wizards, but they're family, so we visit them every holiday. Anyways, Auntie Petunia always gives me loads of presents and she spoils me as if I were her own daughter. I heard Daddy say that she's trying to make up for something with her own sister, Daddy's mum, but I don't know exactly what that means._

 _I asked him, once, what his mother was like. He told me that she died when he was a baby, but from what he knows, she looked just like me. Of course, I also apparently look just like my mother, so maybe my mum looks like his mum…? I just confused myself. But Daddy says he looks like his own dad. He said that his mother was very kind to everyone she ever met, and that she fought always for what she believed in. He said that she even managed to find the good in his father, who was apparently a dunderhead! How silly._

 _So I'm named after his mother. She sounds amazing. Apparently, she was from a Muggle family too, and ended up being one of the brightest witches of her age. Sounds like my Aunt Hermione._

 _My middle name is Luna, and this time, it was my mother who answered when I asked about it. She said I was named after her best friend in school, Luna Lovegood. Well, now it's Luna Scamander now, isn't it. I love Auntie Luna. She sees things differently. She is different. Dad says that that's not always a bad thing to be._

 _Did you know Auntie Luna when you were alive, Uncle Fred? She says you two were friends, and she would know because she didn't have many. I hope I'll have a few when I go to school, and not just my cousins. I only worry because everyone says that I'm a little bit off, too, like Luna was when she was in school. Is it weird that I read the Quibbler, and that I'm fascinated with creatures? Aunt Ginny subscribes to the Quibbler, and Uncle Neville and everyone else I know, and Hagrid and Uncle Charlie love fantastic beasts. And, apparently, one of Auntie Luna's great great great grandfathers was the actual author of the textbook James and Albus have to have for school. How interesting! Isn't it?_

 _Anyways, I love my family. And we're all rather odd, aren't we? I mean, Uncle Bill was attacked by a werewolf and breaks curses. Aunt Fleur is part vela. Uncle Charlie trains dragons, Uncle Percy is….a nerd, as James would say. Uncle George runs a prank shop, Uncle Ron is a goofball (according to Aunt Hermione, who is insanely brilliant). My mum is a seeker for the Hollyhead Harpies, and my dad nearly died every year at school and still managed to save the entire world. If I'm even half as weird as any of them, I'd be proud._

 _But I still want friends at school._

 _But that's two years away, and I hate waiting. Though, now and then James sends things home, like Teddy used to do. When he was in his first year, he got a detention with Fred Jr, Uncle George's son, for blowing up a toilet and sending an owl home with the seat. I don't even want to know why, but it made me and Dad laugh for weeks. Albus tried not to, but I could tell he found it funny. Mum sent them a Howler. Not to yell at them, oh no. She sent it with Aunt Angelina and….well, I bet those boys were pretty embarrassed after that ordeal._

 _I wish I knew you, Uncle Fred. Mum says that if you were alive, you'd take me for ice cream every weekend and you'd let me play in the joke shop and you'd even teach me to ride a broom. Mum and Dad and everybody does their best, but I don't think I'll ever get the hang of it. Maybe I'll be smart in school. I certainly can't play sports._

 _Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor? Like almost everyone else? Or Hufflepuff, like Teddy? What about Ravenclaw? Or Slytherin, like Albus? Does it matter? And what do you even do to get sorted? James won't tell me, and Albus won't either. Uncle Ron says it's a kind of test, and he said that he and Aunt Hermione and Dad fought a troll for their test. That's not true…is it?_

 _I guess I'll just have to wait. Maybe I can keep writing letters to you! It might pass the time until holidays when everyone comes home._

 _Love you, Uncle Fred. Even though we've never met, I still do. Cause I love Uncle George, and he's just like you. Right?_

 _Lily Luna Potter._

 _P.S: Say hello to Grandma Lily and Grandpa James for me. I love them, too!_

* * *

The absolute sweetest little girl. In the entire world. Ever.

George sat just looking at this little girl's letter, his niece's letter. The spitting image of his sister, and oddly enough, the spitting image of Harry's mother when she was girl, based on the pictures Harry had managed to scrounge up from the wreckage of Godric's Hollow and Grimmauld Place. George wondered if it was any coincidence. any act of Fate, that Harry's father had been drawn to a fiery redhead and then nearly twenty years later, Harry (the image of his father) is drawn to another fiery redhead? It certainly bore thinking about somedays.

With a new surge of energy (was it from reading a letter that held so much inane innocence or maybe was it Fred giving his stubborn pain in the ass brother a nudge?), George laid Lily Luna's letter on top of the ever growing pile and reached for another one.

 _Hey, before you read this, I need to tell you something._

"But out, Fred. First you're all on me to read these, and now that I'm diving in, you want me to stop for a second? Really?"

 _It's just….I never really told anyone about…you know…all the kids and things I said before. I mean, I told you. Just now. But there might have been one other person._

"Who?"

But George didn't need an answer. He got it when he lifted the next letter up to the fading light and saw the ever familiar signature on the parchment.

"Katie Bell?"


	28. Katie Bell's Letter

**A/N: I know you guys are waiting for certain characters to make their appearance. They are coming, I promise. I literally thought of every character that might have ever met Fred and George, and if they were still alive at this point in time, I added their name to the letter list. Harry Potter fans, unite!**

 **Keep those reviews coming. I love them all so much.**

* * *

"Katie Bell?"

George stared in confusion at the writing on the next letter, his mind boggled at the whispered words his brother's voice was trying to convey to him. He shook his head. His brother had thought about having kids before he had died….he hadn't told his possible girlfriend, Angelina, at the time….he hadn't told his brother, his _twin…_ but he had told Katie, the girl who played Chaser a few years behind them at Hogwarts, a girl that had been friends with, but hadn't often kept in touch with after they left…he told her his dreams?

"I don't understand, Freddie." George coughed. "You told Katie about…"

 _Well, kind of. Not exactly, I mean, we talked, you know. About the future and what we wanted outside of Hogwarts. Kids just happened to come up._

"When?" George sputtered. "Where the hell was I? What about Angelina or Alicia, or, hell, Wood? When did all this "talking" happen?"

 _Cool it. At one of the after parties, you know, after one of the matches. You all were off getting wild and rowdy and Katie was sitting by herself so I went over and…we talked. At first it was just me trying to get her to cheer up, but eventually we started talking for real._

"So you told her you wanted to name your daughter after her?" George felt that this was strangely out of character for his brother, and he was still madly offended that he was only hearing about this now.

 _She actually conned me into it. Lost a bet I had no chance of winning._

"Yikes." George grimaced. Betting was their number one claim to fame. No wonder Fred had carried this secret to the grave. No pun intended, of course.

 _Yep. But it's fine. I've really grown to love the name Katie Angelina. Sounds like a real pretty girl._

In his mind's eye, George imagined a girl, around sixteen, with creamy skin and auburn hair, with hazel eyes and freckles over her nose. She smiled, and her teeth were slightly crooked, and when she laughed, it was a hearty sound. She was tough, with grass stains and dirt etched into her skin, but she was like her mother that way. And her eyes lit up - and she was like her father.

"Yeah. She does."

George unfolded the envelope and the letter, marveling at the writing he hadn't seen in several years now. Katie Bell, while at one time a close friend, had quite literally fallen of the map where George was concerned. Of course, Angelina still kept in touch with her, and Alicia Spinnet, but George had sadly lost contact with his school Chaser friend. Last he had heard, she was working for the Ministry's Wizarding Sports and Games Collective Office. Though an office job had never seemed to suit the Katie he had known, George had to admit that he hadn't exactly known her in years.

* * *

 _Hey Fred,_

 _Long time, eh? But you wouldn't forget your old teammate, would you? Not Katie Annamarie Bell, would you? Of course not. You'd know what I'd do to you if you did._

 _I guess I should fill you in on what's been happening with me. I've sort of lost touch with your brother and his family, though I still sometimes run into Angelina now and again, and Ginny, too, since my office schedules her games. Yeah, I said office. I'll get to that in a minute._

 _After I left school, and by that I mean after the war was over, I didn't really know what to do. I was a fairly decent Chaser in school, you know that, but I never really had the desire to play professionally. I loved the sport, but my heart wasn't in in anymore. So I applied to the Ministry to see if they had any openings in their Recreations Department. And they did - they always do, ever since Ludo Bagman went on the run for gambling debts. Some positions just never seem to stay filled. Which might have been why I climbed the ranks so quickly. Within two years, I was the Assistant under the Head of Wizardung Sports and Games Collective. I'm currently the Head of Quidditch and Flying Related Regulations. I know, pretty boring, but at least I get complimentary tickets to every match._

 _This is hard for me, Fred, in more ways than one. Just writing this letter brings back so many memories. Memories of you and George hanging around with me and Angelina and Alicia, just goofing off. When you would come to our defense every time Wood got too intense. The trips to Hogsmeade. I remember when you asked Angelina to the Yule Ball. She was so excited, she would not stop talking about it to me and Alicia. I mean it. She really liked you. So did I._

 _I know Angelina married George. If she hadn't there was no way I would be writing this, but since she already knows….I figured it'd only be fair to tell you, too._

 _Do you remember that night after Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff, 180 to 70? You all were celebrating like normal - with fire whiskey and food nicked from the kitchens and small fireworks you apparently designed yourself. I just…well, I wasn't really into it. I don't know how long I sat there, just staring into the fire, the you plopped yourself down beside me and said,_

"What's ringing you, Bell?"

 _You're a clever one, Fred Weasley. And I turned to you with a smirk, and I said,_

"What's it to you, Weasley? Go on, enjoy the party. I'm sure there are other people you need to schmooze or prank or out drink."

 _I don't know why I said that, but as weird as it sounds, I'm glad I did. Because I got to see a side of you that I doubt anyone except maybe George has ever seen - Fred Weasley, serious. It was actually kind of unsettling, seeing that laughing grin wipe off your face and the image of someone seriously concerned take its place. All of a sudden, our conversation took a different turn. We weren't just snaring at each other. We were two close friends, teammates, just….talking._

"Is that all you think I am? A prankster? A joke? A flirt?" _you said to me._ "Well, I'll have you know Miss Bell that there's a whole lot more to me than that."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" _I said, trying to get back to the less serious tone of before, but something was different. You had seemed genuinely hurt by what I insinuated and now you almost wanted to prove to me that there was more to you than all that. And you really surprised me._

"I have dreams you know. Separate than my brother."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like, don't laugh, but I've always kind of wanted kids. Someday, you know. But, like, two boys and two girls so everyone would be even."

 _Fred, I have to confess. After that night, what you told me….after this conversation, I thought about you. I thought about you a lot. For I while, I really…..I could have loved you. If things were different, I mean. But who knows? Maybe that was the lonely fantasy of a fifth year girl. And then you asked out Angelina and she was so happy and I thought, well, maybe she'll be the one to give you the future that you want. I still remember the names…_

"Do you ever think about what'd you name them?" _I had asked, fascinated with this new side of you. "_ Your future kids?"

"William Charles, after my older brothers. Mainly to annoy them, but I bet they'd be honored to. And then there'd be George Arthur. I mean, I have to name one after Georgie, and my dad would just love a namesake to pass all his Muggle Mania on to. And one girl would be Isabella Hermione. I just want to see Hermione cry, really. With happiness, but crying just the same. And finally…"

 _You didn't want to tell me the last one, I could tell. But I made you anyways. Okay, I threatened to hex you, but I was very persuasive about it._

"My second daughter would be named Katie Angelina."

 _I think you just about broke my heart that night. You said that you thought that Angelina and I were the two strongest girls he had ever met, and amazing friends, and you wanted us to be remembered. You said I was practically family, anyways._

 _God, Fred. Why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been me? I mean I've got nothing going for me. I haven't even spoken to your family in years, and there's no one left in mine. I'm alone. I have been for years. There's been no one, no one real, since school. How pathetic is that?_

 _Maybe I'm just being emotional. You always knew how to get me to explode, Fred, you and your brother both. Remember my first year on the team, and you and George were antagonizing me, complaining to Wood about how he let a scrawny second year on the team? I grabbed one of the practice Beater's bats and slugged both of you off your brooms._

 _I miss you. I hope you miss me. I hope you remember me._

 _Always ringing,_

 _Katie Bell._

* * *

"You lied to me about the bet." George frowned, but he didn't have it in him to be really peeved. "But honestly, I can see why you did. Merlin, Katie. I really should send her an owl. Invite her over. Do something."

 _You should. But it can wait a day._

"I guess." George sighed. "But really, Fred…you have dreams separate from me? Ouch."

 _Eh. You'll live._

"That's cold." George said. "But fair."

That's how it always was with his brother, Fred.


	29. Oliver Wood's Letter

**A/N: I am really trying my best here, guys. There are a lot of characters to work with one chapter at a time, and I am not J.K Rowling so trying to work with that which she created is kind of hard. So I am sorry if it's not what you are expecting. I'd appreciate some patience.**

 **Anyways, here is another installment! Review and enjoy!**

* * *

"Do you remember the day we made it onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" George said aloud, hoping that his brother would answer. Both had been quiet after reading Katie's letter, and the next one was obvious, if George hadn't forgotten the handwriting in the last several years. "Our second year. Mum couldn't believe it. Both of us, Beaters, right in the first shot. And you…..you were thrilled that we'd actually be playing. Man, I was too. I got to play Quidditch for real with my brother. And we were good weren't we?"

 _The best._

"We had the dream team, too, third year." George continued. "Oliver Wood as our fearless captain and Keeper. You and me, the obvious brains and brawn of it all, Beaters. Remember our motto?"

 _If you can't beat em, Beat em._

"Right!" George laughed. "And then the terrors themselves - Alicia Spinet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. Damn, those girls were ruthless Chasers, and kept up with us fairly well, I'd say."

 _We had it made._

"And then we nabbed Harry, of course. Youngest Seeker in a century, remember that? Man, who'd have guessed that he'd become so entwined with our mucked up lives, huh, Fred?"

 _Entwined? Mucked? Nabbed? What, using the big boy words now, George?_

"Prick."

 _Ah, that's better._

"C'mon, you dunderhead. I'm trying to reminisce." George deliberately used one of Percy's many words to annoy his brother's spirit. A cold draft washed over him suddenly, and he instinctively knew that it worked. "Naughty Freddie. Haunting your own brother now?"

 _I thought we established this, like, two and a half hours ago? Seriously dude, if you're just catching onto the fact that I'm here now, we have a serious problem._

George rolled his eyes and picked at the next letter on his never-ending pile. Truth was, this next person wasn't exactly a close friend anymore, just like Katie. That was the price of leaving school, growing up and moving out into the big wide world. Some people you kept close to. Others just ceased to be as important as they once were. It was sad, tragic really, but true. It happened. And almost twenty-two years since he left school, George reminded himself. It was hard to keep in touch with every single sap he knew way back when.

"I mean, there's everyone in the family. And those who are practically family, like Luna and Neville and Hagrid. And Lee, of course I still talk to Lee. And I see people around, you know. Joke shop is booming. Everyone comes in now and again."

 _But it's not the same._

No it wasn't. George couldn't fool Fred, and he sure as hell couldn't fool himself. He had cut himself off from a lot of people in the years after Fred died. Socializing just became too hard, because he knew what they would see. No one ever saw "just George" when they looked at him. He was "George Weasley" from one side, and "Fred Weasley" on the other side. Until they remembered….it became easier to simply lock himself away for a while. People eventually stopped pushing to get in and when he let himself out, slowly, painfully…..there was no one close enough left to connect to.

 _Except Neville and Luna and Hagrid and Lee. They are close enough. They haven't left. And Harry and Hermione and everyone there….and everyone they know and connect to….there are more people out there then you think._

"Maybe for you." George said. "They wrote these letters for you."

 _George, no one is really dense enough to fully believe that a dead kid is actually going to read letters. Not when the mother of said dead kid is obviously going to hand the letters over to the dead kid's twin brother, who is basically the dead kid anyway except not dead._

"What?" George deadpanned. Once upon a time he might have been able to follow his twin's incessant ramblings and analogies. Not anymore. It had been a long, long time.

 _Merlin, George. Look, besides the kids and maybe Harry, no one actually thinks that I'm the one reading these letters. Mum gave them to you, Georgie. She gave you the boxes, told you to read them. She let you lock yourself up here to be by yourself, when everyone else is downstairs. Haven't you wondered why no one has come to find you? They're letting you read, letting you deal._

"How in the world could you know that?" George said. "You've been up here with me the whole time."

The sound of Fred's laughter in his mind chilled his heart. He really missed that sound. It was haunting, really. It sounded just like his own laugh, except there was no trace of pain or sorrow or burdening regret or sadness. It was clean and happy - the way it used to be twenty years ago.

 _George, I'm a ghost. I think I can be in more than one place. Like how I can be with everyone who wrote those letters all the time, whether they need me or not, and still be with you, still be in Heaven. Still be…_

"Yeah, I get it. You're freaking Houdini." George said.

 _Who?_

"Never mind." George really didn't feel like getting into a one sided conversation with his ghostly brother about a famous Muggle magician. "I guess I understand what you're saying. But I still don't know if I believe you."

No response. For all Fred's bluster about being everywhere at once no matter what, sometimes, George had the feeling he wasn't all there. Like right now, when he seemingly vanished from George's head. Ridiculous. If anyone from his family heard him talking, they'd think he'd gone insane. It had been in the making for nineteen years and they'd assume he'd just finally snapped.

George sighed (he seemed to be doing that a lot lately) and flicked the newest letter open. It wasn't entirely long. No, in fact it looked like it had been written in a rush. The writing was sloppy and at some points, the sentences ran right off the page, or down the side. There were little annotations everywhere, as if they were put there at the last minute. George could barely follow half of it, but after a few long minutes, he finally managed to wrangle out the letter.

* * *

 _Greetings from the First Reserve Keeper for Puddlemere United!_

 _Can you believe it? I'm actually on the First Reserve Team, and our coach, Odely McPearson, tells me I might make it to the team next year if the current Keeper, Hooter Gunny, doesn't take up from his coma. Got two bludgers to the head last season, one right after the other in record time, too. Shame, really, but if it means I might get to play, I kind of hope Hooter is down for the count. I know, that makes me an awful person. But come on! Puddlemere United! I've been working towards this my whole life!_

 _And Ginny! I could not believe it when I heard she was signed to the Hollyhead Harpies. I told everyone I could that I went to school with her, that I was team captain and how I knew you guys and Harry and how we won the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup and - well, needless to say, I was proud. I still am._

 _I have to say, I'm writing this on the go (I'm traveling to the Puddlemere Quidditch Sports Center to meet with the running team right now, and if I don't get there by half past six, I might lose my shot at moving off the reserve team). I'm heading to where I stationed my Portkey, but I honestly forgot that Molly asked me to send this. I started writing this weeks ago and it's due today._

 _I'm sorry._

 _To be honest, I don't really know which one of you I'm writing this letter to. I don't know what I'm sorry for either, really. Is it for your loss? And which loss am I sorry for? Am I sorry for not keeping in touch for so many years? Sorry for being such a stick in the mud when we were in school? I don't know._

 _And that kind of scares me, Weasley. It does._

 _I'm sorry this letter won't be longer. I have to go. I'll send this with an owl soon and hopefully it will reach your mother before she loses her mind and hexes me through the return address. Of she doesn't, I know for a fact your sister will._

 _Most of all, though, I'm sorry that I can't be there. I missed the funeral because I was so caught up in work and practice. I missed the weddings I was invited to because I thought that one day off from potential training was a day lost. I was wrong, so very wrong. I always have been. I was just like this in school, too, which I bet you remember very well. Quidditch is the best and only thing in my life, and I'm only just starting to realize that maybe it's not such a good thing._

 _I did meet this girl a few days ago. Her name is Amelie Crickly. Kind of a pretty thing. Should I ask her out?_

 _From,_

 _Your favorite Keeper_

 _Oliver Wood_

* * *

"Wood always was one crayon short of a full pack." George muttered but he smiled anyway at the chaotic ramblings of his old team captain. Oliver had always meant well, he really had. He just got…carried away sometimes and forgot what was really important.

Maybe he wasn't the only one.


	30. Cormac MacLaggen's Letter

**A/N: Yes, I know this guy was a jerk. But I still feel that he would have written a letter. These letters are written by surviving characters after the war. Whether it makes sense or not, everyone I can think of gets a letter to write.**

 **Remember: the story is mine, the characters are not.**

 **Review!**

* * *

"Surely you can't be serious."

 _My name isn't Shirley, and believe me, I'm not Sirius, either._

"Okay, if that was some kind of crack, you know I don't know what you mean. Your in my head, remember?"

 _Right. Well, let's just say that it was very clever, and if I had been Sirius Black, it probably would have made more sense._

"Idiot."

 _Hey, I'm not the one talking to myself._

"That would make me crazy, not an idiot."

 _Wow, since when did you become such a di-_

"I swear if you even finish that sentence -"

 _You'll do what? I'm a ghost, remember? Who you gonna call?_

"Did you seriously make a Muggle reference just now/"

 _Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't explore the cultures._

"Fred, it's not a culture."

 _Compared to our wacky ways of wizarding secrecy? Yeah, it kind of is. Did you know that they have these pits where they deliberately set a fire, and contain it, with stones? And they gather around it, like a worship, and they stick food on sticks - sticks, Georgie! Like sausages and marshmallows! It's insane. You've got to try it._

"Will you just shut up already!" George moaned, rubbing his eyes.

 _You started it._

"All I said was I couldn't believe Cormac MacLaggen wrote you a letter."

 _And I said you better believe it because he and I happened to have been decent friends._

"But I mean - your joking right? Fred he was a complete and utter tool! And he wasn't even in our year!"

 _Of course I'm joking! Seriously, George, we met the guy, like, twice, and heard all the slimy things from Ginny and Hermione and even Ron thought he was a git. But he still wrote a letter._

George groaned and held the letter up with two tentative fingers, as if it held something revolting inside the thin papering. Maybe it did. George didn't remember a lot about Cormac from school. He had been in Harry's year, not theirs, and so their interactions with him were limited to Gryffindor events, and even within those, George and Fred had stayed away from the cocky younger year.

And he had been a cocky son of a bitch. Cormac MacLaggen had a reputation that anyone could follow, about as long as a Basilisk's tail. He was smarmy, over confident, relying on his apparent good looks to get with any girl he found worth his while. Though the twins had never really had much contact with him in school, they knew all about him. Kid had tried out for the Quidditch team every year there was a spot open, and every year he was shot down because he was an arrogant, selfish blockhead who figured he could do every part himself.

George had met him once, before school had started. It must have been…what, Ron's sixth year or something? The Golden Trio had stopped in to see their new joke shop, and, since he and Fred were all about protecting their interests in those days, they always vetted who was buying their appliances before selling. It didn't really apply so much to the general population, but any current student at Hogwarts was thoroughly checked out. Mostly, it was to ensure that they would use their products for proper pranking, but now and then, they'd catch one of the future Darkies and they'd know to keep an eye on them. Cormac had been one kid they'd kept their eye on.

Big brothers have a sixth sense when it came to their little sisters, and George and Fred had watched as Ginny and Hermione (who had practically been a sister since Ron first wrote home about her - and their mother promptly wrote to the rest of them to gossip) browsed through their more feminine products. The love potions, for instance. Not that their little sister needed it, George smirked. She never needed it. They were going to tease them, when they saw Cormac leering at Hermione. Well, they considered it leering. Maybe it was his way of flirting.

Either way, they made sure Cormac MacLaggen did not leave with a love potion.

Suffice to say, they had never been friends with that boy. So why was he writing Fred a letter?

"One way to find out." George steeled himself and dug into possibly the most surprising letter he had received thus far.

* * *

 _Fred Weasley,_

 _Surprised? Bet you weren't expecting a letter from me. Seriously, were you expecting a letter from me in the slightest, cause I sure as hell wasn't expecting to write one. Out of the blue, it was._

 _It wasn't your Mum who asked me, though if she had, I wouldn't have refused anyways. I mean, she killed - no, not killed, destroyed - Bellatrix Lestrange. How badass can you get? Your mother is a terrifying woman to be sure, but she's not the reason I begrudgingly write this._

 _There was a time when I may or may not have fancied your sister- in- law, Hermione Granger -Weasley. And maybe your actual sister, too, but that's beside the point. They were crushes, and they passed. Tell that to Harry and Ron, would you? Probably think I'm still the cocky self-centered ass I was in school. And I can't blame them._

 _Look, I know I've never really had contact with you twins. Sure, we were fellow Gryffindors, and I visited your joke shop once or twice (I know you gypped me out of the love potions, jerk). I was more a pain to your brother (and brother-in-law) than I ever was to you. But I know that in the long run, that doesn't matter._

 _I grew up with a dad that was in the spotlight, and consequently, I grew up there, too. Always being told I was the best, the smartest, the handsomest, a real Prince among Men. Yeah, how much more self-centered could I be? Don't answer that. Point is, I learned the hard way that the world doesn't revolve around me. It doesn't revolve around one single person. It only seems like it sometimes - and with Harry, sometimes it seemed it was all about him and we were just supporting characters in our own lives, like some crappy sidekick in a faded out comic._

 _My dad was never around. My mom left when I was just a kid, sick of being only a trophy wife and not anymore more. It was just me, the servants, anyone my dad paid to keep me company and make me feel like a million bucks. I don't. Don't think I ever did, just fooled myself into thinking I did. But I didn't._

 _Anyways, Hermione wrote to me a few weeks ago. Reminded me of the anniversary of what happened to you and asked if she and I could meet. I hadn't seen her since that year back at school, but I agreed anyways. What was the harm in catching up? So we meet that following day in Diagon Alley, just talking as we walked. I learned about her and Ronald, their kids, her career. Everything. And she was so happy. I had none of that, and I asked her…..why she had called me after all these years if she was so happy._

 _And I'll never forget this._

"Cormac, you were an arrogant pain in the are in school. You were so close to sexually harassing half the girls who turned you down, you thought you were some big shot just by shooting them a toothy smile, and to this day, I have no regrets over Confunding you during Quidditch tryouts. But that was then. People change, and I wanted to see if you had."

"Why?" _I asked. It made no sense to me._

"You didn't really know Fred. Or George or Bill or Charlie or any of them, and you don't know me or Harry or Ron or Ginny or our children. You don't know our family. But you were touched by all of us, simply by knowing us in the sense that you lived and survived by us. Because of us. You didn't know Fred, but he knew you. Big brother always looks after his siblings, and Fred was really good at that. He might have called you a thousand names for the slimy way you treated me. But he also would have forgiven you."

 _And she told me about the letters and what your mother was doing and that I should write to you and explain all that and how I've changed and blah blah blah. Look, I don't know if I'm even going to send this stupid thing. How have I changed? It's been nineteen years, and what have I got too how for it?_

 _You know what I'm doing now? Working at Flourish and Blotts, cause I got fired from my last job as the coach for the Silver Bludgers Quidditch team. Said I was too controlling. That much hasn't changed._

 _I live in a crappy wizarding apartment in the West End, and I'm not above using Obliviate on my landlord if I know rent is going to be a stretch this year. I don't have a girlfriend, or even a pet. My life is absolute shit now, and I haven't even put it all in this letter because, honestly, I don't think you need to know. Hell, I don't want you to know. Bad enough I already told all that to Hermione. And she looked at me with such….pity, I couldn't take it. I used to be somebody, Fred. I was Cormac MacLaggen, and that was all that confidence I needed._

 _Not anymore._

 _Maybe one day things will get better. I'm having brunch with Ron and Hermione on Thursday. I never thought I was the type of guy who needed friends, you know? But it's actually kind of nice. And I'm finding that….I'm wishing that I hadn't been such an insufferable jerk all my life. Cause I don't want to be that way._

 _That's all I really want to write._

 _Cormac._

* * *

"What the serious hell." George whistled. "I mean what? That has got to be the…." he couldn't even finish. This letter was just one long self deprecating rant over how his life sucked nineteen years after his prime. What was he supposed to take from that?

 _The same you took from Draco's letter. And Narcissa's. Just because someone was awful at one point, doesn't mean they don't know they've made mistakes. Cormac knows he was an ass. And he's living his life ashamed of who he used to be. He let it get this far._

"So what am I supposed to do? Pity him?" George scoffed.

 _Sometimes that's all you can do._


	31. Seamus Finnegan's Letter

**A/N: Sorry for the break. Some people were kind of rude and I decided I wasn't going to deal with this site for a few weeks while I dealt with myself. Also, I moved into college and broke my arm the same day, so…..life is great, folks.**

 **Anyways, here is another chapter with characters I DO NOT OWN BUT APPRECIATE.**

 **Okay, so this next chapter isn't precisely canon, but I am a huge fan of Deamus so I wrote them as a couple here. Sorry. Don't like it, then you can skip and wait for Lee Jordan's chapter, which will be after Dean's. It's also really short. Whoops.**

 **Review please.**

* * *

The next letter was a pleasant surprise. George knew that, back when Freddie had been a constant presence, they hadn't had a whole lot of close friends. Oh, sure, they were popular enough in school. Everyone knew who they were, what they could and would supply, and everyone always knew that being with the Weasley Twins always assured a good time. But the truth was, half that time, the people who hung around them were only in it for the laughs. They weren't there just because it was Fred and George. No, they hadn't had many people like that.

There was, of course, Lee Jordan, and George had seen a possible glimpse of his next closest friend's handwriting somewhere in the box. And then there had been Katie and Alicia and Angelina, and Wood, too, when he happened to not be s stick in the mud. But thee actually weren't a lot of kids in their year that they were friends with. When George thought about it, he realized that some of the people in his life he now considered his closest friends and family had been Ron and Harry's friends. Luna, Dean, Draco, Seamus….Seamus Finnegan. George looked again at the letter in his head, thinking about the last time he had ever seen Seamus.

It had been at his and Angelina's wedding, he was sure. Seamus and Dean had come to say congratulations, and George had quietly offered some of his own. Everyone knew how the two boys felt about each other, and as far as George could tell, there was not a single person who knew either of them that disapproved. However, the Ministry still followed many of the Muggle laws, and the love that the two boys had for each other was still considered illegal to the public eye. Thus, it had been with the upmost secrecy, a small ceremony had been conducted about a month before George's own wedding, and with their small remaining band of the DA, Seamus and Dean had their wedding.

Since that day, George got the occasional word from either boy. They were traveling abroad, visiting family in Ireland and Westminster, then they were off to see the rest of the world. He knew that they had gone to America for a little while, but after that….he had lost touch. And now there was a letter from Seamus, and Seamus alone. George unfolded the piece of paper (it had been folded very precisely and several times over) and scanned his way up to the top of the page.

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _Betcha didn't expect to hear from me after all this time, didn't you? I know, I haven't been in touch and there is a reason for that which I will get to, so hold on to your pants._

 _Dean and I have been traveling a lot these past few years. As you might know, the Ministry is still practically following the Muggle standards with their laws, so same-sex marriages aren't socially acceptable yet. Dean and I have been laying low, because, despite our efforts, we have not been as discrete as possible. Nothing bad's happened yet, mate, don't worry. No one really gives a shit, but it's making a few things harder than they really need to be._

 _Dean has been working on some artwork for a few magazines, the Quibbler mostly but even the Daily prophet employs him to do some renderings when the regular moving pictures seem too mainstream. He's also been collaborating on some books. Some are coming out in America, for the Ilvermonry school, and some will be hopefully on the upcoming lists at Hogwarts._

 _Look at me prattle on about me husband. Damn. I shouldn't say more cause he'll probably tell you in his letter. Yeah, we decided to write separate letters cause there's just so much we have to say to you Fred._

 _I mentioned that things were a bit hard. Well, they are. Dean has his chances to draw, but I haven't worked in a year or so now. I used to be one of the managers for the Irish Quidditch divisions, covered all the teams, their regulations and schedules and everything. My relationship with Dean was nobody's business until one day, suddenly it was everyone's business. Worked that job for eight years and then I was out. It's shit, I tell you. Everyone deserves to love, and to love whoever they fucking want. Why does it matter if the person I've chosen to love happens to be a man? Ah._

 _It's not like I'm treated any different. Nah, these aren't the Muggles. Wizards are still mostly civilized wherever you go. But…._

 _No one knows about this yet. It's been a secret of ours since….well, since before we were married. Yeah, we were married, Fred. It was all very secretive. You'd have approved, I think. Anyway, Dean and I have been talking about starting a family. Of course, the only way really liable to us is adoption, since we want to be able to help those kids (Muggle or wizard, we aren't particular) who survived the war (again, Muggle and Wizarding). Again, the problem is, not a lot of people are on board with two married men taking custody of a child. Breaks away from the average norm of society, I guess._

 _I found her, though. A baby girl from Paris, whose parents had left her with an aunt to come to fight with us at Hogwarts. The parents never made it, and the aunt didn't want the girl._

 _Her name is Louisa._

 _I think Dean has his eyes on another child, but we haven't really decided yet. I just wanted to let you know that the Dublin friend of yours was doing well, all things considered._

 _Hope none of this was a bit of a nasty shock._

 _Your friend,_

 _Seamus Thomas - Finnegan_


	32. Dean Thomas's Letter

**A/N: Yeah, these few chapters aren't going to be tearjerkers really, but believe me, I will more than make up for that later. Of course, the last chapter was Seamus, and now we have Dean. What beautiful characters they are. It's not really some of my best work so**

 **Remember: I don't own anything of Harry Potter and all things related to the Wizarding World created by J.K Rowling.**

 **Also: this is really short. Sorry about that, but I'm in a time crunch so**

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _Hello from America! Honestly, by the time you get this, I might not even be in America anymore, but I am as I write this letter, so I'm sticking by it._

 _Seamus probably told you everything already - he tends to get ahead of himself - but I wanted to write my own letter. I felt like this was something that required a personal touch from each of us. You knew Seamus as the pyro kid from school, and me….well, I'm your brother-in-law's friend who, at one point, dated your sister. How ridiculous it seems now that Harry and Ginny are happily married with three wonderful kids, and Seamus and I married and talking about adoption. Yes, we are officially talking about adoption._

 _I know Seamus has practically fallen in love with this baby girl, Louisa, we came across during our search for a child. It's so hard, you know, for two men to try to obtain a kid to start a family. It doesn't matter that Seamus and I are in love. It's not allowed in the Muggle community, and the Wizarding World is just as reserved._

 _I think Seamus suspects me, but I have to tell you this secret I've been holding in. I know he wants to try and adopt Louisa. I love her too, I do. But…._

 _Okay. I was at one of my freelancer jobs, drawing designs for this new book on the Ilvermorny History, when I came across the story of a young boy who had been put in an asylum because of the strange things he could do. Clearly, he was a Muggleborn wizard, but the Muggle authorities called him insane and a danger to society. I can't leave him here. Not when I know I can help, and not when I know that the American wizards won't._

 _I know this sounds like the beginning of an origin story for a new Dark Lord. I admit, the similarities are unnerving. But I've done my research. Have you read_ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them? _There are brief mentions of what happens to children who are told to suppress their abilities, told that they are unnatural and wrong. There is an urban legend over here in America of what happened to such a kid. If I have the chance to save this boy, I want to take it._

 _Trouble is, I don't know how to raise this to Seamus. You know how volatile he can be. Or rather, impulsive, I think, would be the better word. We both want a family, but it seems that we both have different visions of this family. I want to save this boy, but I also want Seamus to be happy. Trouble is, I know he wants the same for me._

 _Fred, I'm sorry. Look, I know I dated your sister. But other than that, what do we have in common? I was friends/dorm mates with Harry, but I was never much more than a backup character in his life, it seems. I never got to really know you or George that well. It will always be a regret of mine, and of Seamus's, I assure you._

 _Did anyone tell you that, for your funeral, I drew a life-size portrait of you that hung in the front above your coffin? I cast a Glamour Charm on it, too, so every now and then, it would smile and wink and chuckle, just like you did. Do. I am sure you still do._

 _I guess that's all I have to say. I promise to keep you posted on everything._

 _Dean Thomas - Finnegan._

* * *

George sighed and placed Dean's letter on top of his husbands. Why was it so hard to get what you wanted most in the world? Whether it was love, family, happiness…it all came at a price. And what was worse, good people like Fred or those children were the ones who had to pay it.


	33. Lee Jordan's Letter

**A/N: I've been sort of in a rut lately guys. I'm really trying here. So here goes my best shot at another chapter. Maybe it will be a tear jerker, maybe it will be a comedic chapter. Maybe it will suck. You guys will be the judges of that, I guess.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All Harry Potter characters, places, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling.**

 **Thank you, and please continue to review!**

* * *

George stood and stretched for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon. He had been up here reading for - he checked his watch - three hours. The sun was only just beginning to set. And not one person had come up to check on him. George figured that most of his family would let him alone today, but his mother, or Ginny…usually they would have sought him out by now. George frowned. Had something happened while he had been hidden away? He made a move to got to the door but was pulled up short by some sort of invisible force, like a flexible wall, in front of him.

 _Forget something?_

George rolled his eyes. Of course.

"Fred, I need to check on Mum and Gin. I've been up here for hours."

 _You think I don't know that? I've got other things to do, too, bro._

"Fred-"

 _Georgie, everything is fine. Look, I can't really explain it but the same energy I'm exerting to keep you here until you finish and learn something goddammit - the same energy I have for you here, I'm using to keep the others downstairs and away from us. It's not so much as a wall of energy in their case. They all just feel as if they shouldn't come disturb you._

"I would welcome some disturbing." George groused."And what is it that I'm supposed to be learning from these sheets of paper?" There was silence in his head, and George sighed. He could tell his brother was frowning. He never had to see Fred's face to know when he was particularly upset by something that was said. He could just sense the difference in his brother's heart and mind. It seemed that even through the veil of death that hadn't changed - at least, when he knew Fred was there. Unless -

"Fred - "

 _I love you, George. You know that, right?_

"Y-yes, I know that, Fred. I've always known that. And I love you, too. We're brothers."

 _We were always more than just brothers and you know that. We were twins in everything. Best friends. Two halves of a whole. There was never a day since we were born that we were ever apart from each other._

George swallowed thickly. These were what he had thought over the last nineteen years, and hearing his brother's broken voice say them only made him relive the agony of the loss of his - for lack of a better word - soulmate. That's what Fred had been in almost every sense of the word - a soulmate.

 _George, what you felt when I died - all those years of agony and torment and depression - what you felt losing me - I felt it too. Heaven isn't all perfect. You know why? Cause I'm missing you. I'm missing all of you, but it was you, George, who actually made life worth living for me because I knew that no matter what happened - no matter who we married or where we moved to, you would always be there by my side._

"What are you saying?" George was confused, but in a flash of clarity, he suddenly knew what his brother was saying, just as he always had. "That I've been basically depressed all these years because you've been depressed?"

 _Don't be an idiot._

George could hear the scoffing laughter in Fred's ghostly voice and he had to chuckle to himself.

"Yeah, okay, that was a pretty dumb thought." he conceded.

 _What I'm saying, you handsome moron, is that it's taken me this long to realize that though you've lost me in body, we haven't lost that connection - that connection that always transcended words._

"Look at you, using all the big words." George smiled but he knew, just as Fred was saying, the meaning behind his brother's words. He could feel it. "But you know, as sweet as all that is, you haven't answered my question of what I'm actually supposed to be learning from all this."

 _George, no offense, but you've spent the last nineteen years thinking you're the only one allowed to grieve for me. Like no one else had the right to because they never knew me like you did._

He didn't even know how to respond to that. Had he really been so closed off?

 _George, these letters are supposed to show you that your life wasn't the only one I was apart of. You read the ones from our family, and now friends, and maybe you'll reach people you never knew that I knew, whose lives you never knew I even touched._

George ran his hands through his hair, clutching at the ends a little too hard before he let go, looking tiredly at that box on the bed that seemed to threaten him as much as it welcomed him.

"And I'm completely trapped here." George said. There was no answer this time. "Hello? HELLO? Hey! CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME?" Still no answer, though that might also have been because their room was so high up into the house that nobody could actually hear him from where they were gathered. Perfect. "You're an evil genius, you know that, right, Fred?"

 _Thank you. I take that as the highest of compliments. Now open another letter, prisoner._

George stuck out his tongue, instinctively knowing that Fred would have been doing the same. George reached into the box blindly, shuffling the letters around at random before pulling one out. Instead of sitting, he decided to pace. It would give his legs something to do at the very least.

As he strolled around one bed, then across the room to the other, George peeled the envelope open, ripping through the seal. He wasn't surprised to see his best friend's signature on the letter - well, his other best friend besides Fred. Fred was always his first and foremost best friend. But Lee Jordan was a very close second.

They had met Lee Jordan their very first day of attending Hogwarts. Actually, they had met him right on the Hogwarts train. It was quite a magical train, George thought. So many significant friendships and even some not-so-friendships had been made just on that scarlet train. His brother had met Harry and Hermione on that train. Harry's parent's had met there, and the Marauders had practically been formed on that train. And that train was where Fred and George had met their third partner in crime, Lee Jordan.

George held in his hands the letter of a friend that had stuck with him through some of the roughest years of his life. Not many of his friends had done that so whole-heartedly as Lee had done. Lee was the reason the shop wasn't completely decrepit. Well, actually Ron and Ginny were the reason, but Lee had gotten their attention that George had let the shop go into utter disrepair for the first few years following Fred's death. Without Lee, George didn't know where he would be. He had taken to hiding away in his flat above the shop, not eating, not sleeping, not letting anyone in to see him as he wallowed in his own depression. He had been wasting away and not caring.

Lee was the one who had gotten him out of there and brought him home where his family had taken over his life for him until he had been well enough to live it himself.

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _Oh, sorry. Was it Rapier? Remember, when I started Potterwatch, and we all had those code names? I was River, and….why am I repeating this? You were there! Obviously you remember. That was some time, wasn't it?_

 _It's been….nineteen years, now, Fred. Merlin, that's a long time. Funny thing, though, I still kind of get to see you every now and again cause of George…but he's not you, now, is he? Nah, he's George. Georgie Porgy - puddin' - and - pie. Ever hear that rhyme? Me neither, not until your sister in law, that Hermione, told it to me to tell my kids._

 _Yessir, I have kids of my own now. Did you ever think? Married a nice girl, Louella Graves. She's really pretty, and American too! Moved here to work in the Ministry's International Watch sector. They set up that department about two years after the battle, figuring that what had happened here in England, and the stories of what happened in America, what, fifty years ago, and what with the Muggle wars going on over in Europe, there might be a need to call for international aid on the future. Smart idea. It's just too little, too late in my opinion._

 _But as I was saying, I married that nice girl, Louella, about ten years ago now, and we have two beautiful kids, Wendy Marie Jordan and Frederick Constantine Jordan._

 _George is the godfather of both of them._

 _See, Fred, we were best friends in school, yeah? Oh, I know you and George were the ultimate best friend goals and whatnot, but I like to consider that I was an unofficial trio to your brilliant duet. Losing you…was hard. See, no one else on this earth knows me better than you and George. Remember third year when I brought that giant tarantula to the platform and let it out in the girl's on station lavatory? Hilarious! Or those times when we bet on who could find the most secret passages through the school, and you two buggers didn't tell me you had that magic map of yours till after you had won and I had bought you half of Zonko's? Or those nights when you would discuss the Quidditch strategies with me so I could commentate them better? Or when you two first ran through your joke shop idea with me?_

 _Or how about when things were starting to get darker around here and I would stay up late writing letters to my family every night, just to check and see if they were okay, and you two stayed up with me? Or when i hid myself in the broom closet on the third floor in the east wing, crying, because my father had gotten caught and killed by Dark Lord supporters, and you two found me and just sat in that tiny closet with me until I didn't look like a freaking first year girl anymore?_

 _Or how about when your dad was attacked in the Ministry and you were so terrified of losing him that you apparated to my home in the middle of the night against orders just so you could talk to someone who wasn't a family member? Or when Cedric died, and you heard Amos Diggory screaming for his son, and you sat with George and me, shell shocked, and we had to drag you out of the stands and get Madam Pomfrey to get you smelling salts? Or in fourth year, when Ginny was possessed? Or when you and George were kicked off the Quidditch team our last year because of what that douche monkey Malfoy said?_

 _How about when we started Potterwatch?_

 _How about when George was nearly killed and lost his ear? When he was laid up in bed with fever and you didn't dare go into his room for days because you thought he was going to die and you couldn't handle the idea of losing Georgie, not now not ever, so I came and sat with you until he called your name and you had to go in because it was Georgie?_

 _And then you were gone._

 _Killed._

 _Murdered._

 _You are a hero, Fred. And one of my best friends. So, being a complete and utter cliche, I sort of named my son after you. Frederick. And George is the godfather of both him, and my daughter, because George is also my best friend. And he needs me as much as I need him, I know._

 _It nearly killed him, your death. And it nearly broke me, seeing how much George was hurting. It breaks me piece by piece every fucking day, Fred. I can't help it. I mean, I go to work, commentating on the major Quidditch games here in London, but every time I do, it always brings me back to the days when I would shout "Weasley" into the megaphone a dozen times and you all would come flying out in gold and scarlet._

 _Why? Why was it you, Fred? In fact, why did anyone have to die at all? Why does George lose his brother, you mother lose a son? Why did Harry lose his parents, almost his entire family? Why did Teddy lose his parents? Why? Why? Can you help put these questions to rest? If your in that better place, with Him or whoever, and if you know the answers, well, we sure would like to know._

 _I'm sorry. I was getting emotional. Kind of different from the Lee you knew me as back in school. Or as River, I guess._

 _I can't write anymore. I'm so tired, Fred, and I've said my piece. I've cried for my fair share of time. I have to let this go now, let the owl take the letter from my hand before I get so caught up in the past and the "what if's" that I kill myself._

 _I'm not going to kill myself._

 _Hats off to you, then, Fred Weasley. And a 150 points. Just because._

 _Lee Jordan_

 _a.k.a River_

 _a.k.a Best Friend Number 3_


	34. Cho Chang's Letter

**A/N: Guys, please keep reviewing! You have no idea how happy I get when I see your comments for this story, and I could really use some happiness in my life. Seriously, my day has sucked.**

 **So please, leave your thoughts, feelings, ideas, requests, and reviews below!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

 **Thanks!**

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _Harry asked me to write this letter. Honestly, I'm surprised he even reached out to me after all these years. We haven't exactly been on speaking terms ever since my sixth year - well, it would have been his fifth, wouldn't it, starting Dumbledore's Army and all. I was part of that, you know, and Harry and I actually had a sort of thing during that year, but it wasn't very long since it was right after Cedric and everything and then Marietta snitched on the DA and well….we were never as close as we both wished after that._

 _I don't know why I'm rambling on like that. I don't know why I'm writing this letter. Maybe it was because Harry asked me to. I never liked turning him down when he asked. He asked me to the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, and it broke my heart because I had already said yes to Cedric. Maybe you remember…._

 _I doubt it. You probably don't remember me at all. You and George were always so much cooler, so much older and out of anybody's league that I never felt comfortable trying to insert myself amongst you all. It wasn't just because you all were Gryffindors and I was a Ravenclaw - we proved at the battle that houses can stand together despite and because of our differences. I just…_

 _I married Michael Corner, you know. Or maybe you didn't. Do you remember him? He used to date your sister, Ginny, but they didn't end quite well and he and I started talking and then talking led to dating and….we got married about six years ago, and it's been nice. It's been normal and comfortable. We have a daughter, Coraline Kay, and a son, Credence Michael. It's a nice life - and I hate it._

 _Okay, I said it finally. I hate my life. Don't get me wrong, I love Michael and Credence and Coraline. But I always, always, imagined having this family life with Cedric. Okay? I know that's so cliche and it was a lifetime ago, but I loved him. Even when we were sixteen and seventeen, I knew he was the love of my life and it still hurts to this day that he's gone and now I have the life I should have had with him except it would have been so much better._

 _I'm admitting this now on paper because I feel like you can relate. You and Angelina had what Cedric and I had, right? And then you were stolen from her, and now she and George and your family and everyone is devastated just like they were for Cedric…I know it's not the same but it's similar, right? Right?_

 _I feel like such a hypocrite writing a letter to you and then trying to drag it into my own life, when you have so much more to worry about, most likely. I mean, you're probably watching out for your entire family (and you all sure have expanded) and resting in piece and now your being dragged to read my letter, and….I'm not making much sense, am I?_

 _Look, I guess all that I really wanted to ask was is it nice, where you are? In Heaven? Are you with Dumbledore and Professor Lupin and Harry's parents and Professor Moody and Susan's parents and Colin Creevey and Sirius Black and maybe Professor Snape and all those other witches and wizards who gave their lives nineteen years ago? Are you with Cedric?_

 _I know many people might have asked you to send them a sign if you read this, to show them proof that their loved ones have moved on and to tell them things. I won't ask you to do that. If Cedric is there, I just hope that maybe we can find each other again someday, when I come for him, and I hope he is waiting for me and that he will forgive me for not waiting for him._

 _I'm sorry for most likely wasting your time writing this letter. I wish we could have known each other better in life, so that I could remember you in earnest in death._

 _Cho Chang Corner._

 _P.S My children really love your joke shop. It's absolutely splendid._

* * *

George folded Cho Chang's letter up and slid it back in the envelope before placing it on the pile. He didn't want to read this. His family's he could handle. Friends of the family, his friends, Fred's friends, yes, they were fine. But Cho Chang? Really? Why in hell would Harry even consider reaching out to his ex girlfriend, a woman he hadn't seen or spoken to in nearly nineteen years, to write a letter to his dead brother?

"Can you answer that, wise guy?" George snarked, but his brother's voice was conspicuously silent. "I just..I can handle most things, but Cho….What part of that was about you?"

 _She's experienced heartbreak through loss, George. Maybe her letter wasn't the most effective, but she knows how much it hurts to have someone you love get ripped away from you._

George looked at the folded letter again. He had forgotten that she had gone through a lot herself, and she had gotten mixed up with Harry and the bullshit that had been his life at that time, and they all had just slowly started to implode and George never realized that she had gotten caught in the crossfire….so many people had gotten caught in the crossfire.

Nineteen years later, and the wounds had only just begun to heal.

George was beginning to think that maybe they never would.


	35. Viktor Krum's Letter

**A/N: I fell in love with the boy next door and he fell in love with my roommate. Isn't that always how that goes? At least, it is for me.**

 **Well, anyways, where is another chapter for all you lovely reviewers. You guys honestly make my day with your comments and I feel so blessed and honored to write for you guys, and the fact that you actually seem to like what I come up with. Please continue to follow me because I promise there is so much coming.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter etc.**

 **Review and enjoy!**

* * *

It was a strange and wonderful thing how people he had met a lifetime ago still tried to keep in touch. George still spoke regularly with his old professors from school, especially Minerva McGonagall, Madam Hooch, and especially Hagrid. He chatted frequently with Alicia Spinet, the Patil twins, Aberforth Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even Cornelius Fudge has come around to speak a word or two. It was surprising how many people he had come across when he was younger still managed to reach out to him, and he wondered if they, too, would have letters buried somewhere in that box.

George reached in again, feeling more and more like one of the Muggle magicians who could pretend to pull rabbits out of hats - him being always able to pull more and more cards out of a seemingly small box - and took another letter into his hand. This one had a dark, almost reddish bloody kind of ink scrawled on the front, the font looking menacing and serious. The seal, too, on the back wasn't of the typical Hogwarts crest, but instead it was solid black with the indentation of a star in the center.

"What in the world…?" George muttered as he cautiously peeled the envelope open. He half expected it to be some sort of sordid prank - maybe a dung bomb, or a flash or Peruvian Darkness Powder, or even pus that would make his skin burst out in boils. But nothing happened. There was just a letter inside - a dark, almost black parchment, as if it had been burnt, with the same bloody ink etched across it in bold stamps. It seemed so serious and formal, it was scaring George more than the letters from his family had. Finally, he managed to ease the paper out and unfolded it gently, still not unconvinced that something was going to happen.

George finished unfolding the parchment and immediately scanned the page all the way to the signature where he could barely make out the scrawl, but he recognized it anyway now from the years of correspondence.

"Well, well, well, Viktor Krum." George chuckled. "Bulgaria's favorite Seeker. How are you, my friend?"

It had been a long time since George, personally, had spoken with the Durmstrang lad, but he knew that Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny all kept in touch, Ginny having played against him on several occasions. George, however, hadn't seen him since Bill and Fleur's wedding, as the bride had invited him - George never knew if anything had every sprung up between the French lass and Bulgarian hunk of meat, but it was all in the past now and those things put to rest. George wondered why he would be writing to him, of all people. As far as he recalled, he and Fred had never been particularly kind to Krum - during there Triwizard Tournament, they had started the chant "Dumb Krum" for all the events, rallying in favor for Harry - or the dragon, in the case of the first task. But they had never supported the tough Quidditch player, even when he and Hermione had that quick school year fling. As he said, it was all in the past. So what, he wondered, could be in this letter?

* * *

 _Fred Weasley,_

 _My English has gotten better since last time we meet. Although, perhaps I still have a few bugs to work out, hm?_

 _I have been talking with Hermionee (though she has told me a thousand times, I can never seem to spell her name right), and I am sorry I could not attend your funeral. In fact, I have missed out on on a lot over these last few years._

 _Of course, since the Triwizard Tournament, I have kept up communication with Fleur Delacour, now your sister, Fleur Weasley, alongside Hermiony, and of course, you remember I was invited to Fleur and Bill's wedding. And our correspondence has continued over the years, even though I haven't been able to visit as much lately._

 _Let me see…yes, I attended your brother and sister's wedding almost nineteen years ago now. And then the Dark War began. As you know, everything was discontinued as the Death Eaters and all their supporters took over the Ministry, over your wizarding school, over England. The Bulgarian National Quidditch Team was disbanded and my family and I returned to Bulgaria. There we waited with our government to see which way the wind would blow. We had not decided whether or not to interfere with the situation, seeing as for the moment, it would only affect England. Thus, I didn't know what was going on until Hermionie and Fleur wrote to me a few months later._

 _I am so sorry to hear that you had passed. But you were a hero. You gave your life so that others might have the chance to live. It was very noble. I only wish I might have been able to get to know you better in life. I have tried with the others of your family._

 _I attended Hermione and Ron's wedding - and while I was disappointed to see that she had chosen someone else, I was pleased to see that he clearly will love and cherish her. Indeed, if he doesn't, I will be sure to make him regret it. And then, I attended Harry and Ginny's wedding as well. That Ginny, she is also quite a spitfire. What a Quidditch player as well. I have had the honor of playing against her several times. And your brother George and that girl, Angelina, and your other brother, Percy and his wife. I have kept in touch with your family. Not to mention visiting all those kids -_

 _Anyways, my point is that while I might not have gotten to know you in life - seeing as our interactions were limited to you booing me at the Tournament and barely talking to me since then - but I am holding fast to your family after your death._

 _You see, if there is one thing I have learned getting to know Harry and everyone over these years is family doesn't end with blood. Friends, those who love you no matter what and stand by you, they are your family._

 _I even managed to begin one of my own. A girl here in Bulgaria and I have struck up quite the relationship and we are going to be getting married in a few months. Her name is Nikolina. I am glad to finally have the prospect of a happy ending for myself. It has been so long since I felt this kind of attraction - not since Hermione I suppose._

 _I tell you this because I never had the chance to in life. And death is a veil that separates us all, is it not? It unites us and still it divides us. The most I can promise is that one day we will meet again in that far beyond, but until then, I will be a loyal friend to your family, and a rather odd Uncle Viktor to some of your nieces and nephews. (Fleur made me the godfather to Louis, and Hermione and Ron both honored me with the title as well for their daughter Rose)._

 _Until then, my friend_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Viktor Krum_


	36. Madam Hooch's Letter

**A/N: Surprise! Guess who has written the letter next! Yep, and there are more surprises to come. Did you think I'd stop at friends and family? Fred Weasley affected so many people, both in the books and in real life, and he deserves to have his memory immortalized.**

 **If anyone wants to give a shoutout for a chapter to write a letter, put in in the comments below along with a review!**

 **General Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and characters, etc.**

* * *

If there was one thing Fred and George had loved about Hogwarts, it had been the chance to play for a real Quidditch team. Well, "real" was a relative term, but it was more professional than the garden games they would play with their brothers.

When their second year had come around and they had finally been eligible to try out for the Gryffindor team, it had been like Christmas had come early. Fred and George were the ultimate tag team - they could always read each others minds, always in sync. Their older brother Charlie was on the team, too, (he was captain) and he was the one who told them that they were going to need new Beaters. Then it was like if Christmas and their birthday had somehow coincided, which was impossible seeing as they were born on April 1st.

They made the team. George had never been so happy in his life. He was playing Quidditch, for real, like, for _points_ and _trophies_ and everything, and he was doing it with his twin brother, and his big brother, too! And ever since then, it was like, everything to them. Then, of course, they had the joke shop and their business, but Quidditch was always something that had really solidified their bond.

Quidditch was something that their whole family was really into. Arthur Weasley always had connections in the Ministry to get them tickets for games and the World Cup. And Ginny, well she was a professional Seeker so she was in the game for real. Charlie, though his interests were mainly concerning dragons, was still a huge fanatic for the sport, and even Bill and Fleur could get really competitive with their favorite teams (Bill's obviously being the Hollyhead Harpies and Fleur favoring Bulgaria, seeing as their national mascot was Veela). It was the Weasley way of life. Ron had his Chudley Canons and Harry was the youngest seeker in a century. So there was nothing more familiar than the age of Quidditch.

That field at Hogwarts had been like a third home to the twins. They had spent countless nights out there, whether to just cut loose a little, or if one of them really needed to blow off steam, because regardless of what everyone thought, they were not always calm and collected. Fred in particular could get very emotional and anxious at times, and George was sensitive about certain things. None of that really bartered thinking about, but it didn't change the fact.

George pulled another letter from the seemingly endless box and realized with surprise that the front of the envelope didn't say _To Fred_ but instead, _To Beaters Weasley and Weasley._

"No freaking way." George chuckled. "The old hatter sent a letter? Really?"

 _Well, we were her favorites. Though she never would admit it._

"It was hard enough with Snape and Umbridge on her ass half the time that last year." George growled. "And she was a professional."

 _Aye, that she was._

George chuckled again as he eagerly opened the letter from Rolanda Hooch, or rather, as he knew her - Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts referee.

* * *

 _To Messrs. Weasley and Weasley (specifically the Beaters, not the Seeker nor the Keeper),_

 _And, to think of it, neither the former Captain either. You Weasley's certainly are bred for the sport aren't you? Heavens, at least I can always remember the team, eh? Ah, that's right. All of you are birds of a feather, plus that Harry Potter, of course. And he married that spitfire sister of yours. She was well made for the sport, I should say. But you two were a crack team. Certainly made the whole ordeal much more interesting._

 _I consider myself an expert in defining a talent for Quidditch. I can tell who will be exceptional at the end of the first flying lesson. You and your brother were two of the finest and most reckless students I have ever observed. Both of you, so remarkably in sync and yet remarkably irresponsible in the codes of conduct of the most distinguished sport._

 _Yet, there were no more loyal, more dedicated players. In all my years, observing you has given me the most to think about._

 _You two have such a reputation, I assume you're aware. Pranksters, slackers, roundabouts. But on the field, you boys transform into a single minded unit. I mean, I suppose you always were practically a single minded unit. Perhaps it's fitting that it develops into a more constructive use on the field, hm?_

 _Now I wish to specify this part to you, Fred Weasley. I say this only because I know your twin brother will be reading this alongside you (in spirit, I presume) and that I while I directed the first part of this letter to you both, this is for you alone._

 _I did not know you outside of the Quidditch pitch. I was not one of your regular teachers, and thus your academic life was not one of concern of me. So I only saw the fast flying, bat wheeling, cocky teenager you were on the field, the loyal team player that stood up for your friends and teammates and was not afraid to let anyone and everyone celebrate with you. I was always your Quidditch referee, your flying instructor, nothing more. You might think that our paths never even crossed. But you affected more people than you know, Fred Weasley._

 _You lived your life like the wind - it was elegant and fierce and hard and it changed every person it touched in a different way. Your death was a hard one to swallow. Of course, all death is hard to endure, but you…you were so young with so much potential and so many people who loved you, even now. There are so many people who wish they could know you now, Fred. You are a hero. And I am so proud to be able to say that I knew you once._

 _I am old. Yes, I am past my prime. I am still here teaching, of course, but it's nearly my time to move on. I hope you might meet me in that great beyond and I can finally talk with you. The way two old friends can._

 _Your old referee,_

 _Madame Rolanda Hooch_


	37. Hagrid's Letter

**A/N: I hope this one is as emotional for you to read as it was for me to write.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

George had found out a lot of secrets over the years, most of them concerning his brother Ron and everything that the Golden Trio had gone through since practically their first year at Hogwarts. The whole family had sat down and asked Harry to tell them everything as as they story went on, they had been shell shocked at everything they didn't know. Like how Harry, Ron, and Hermione figured out the Sorcerer's Stone, how Harry fought the Basilisk, how Harry and Hermione used the Time-Turner to change Sirius's fate, how Harry and Sirius had communicated for almost a full year before Dumbledore had entrusted the Weasley's into Sirius's story of innocence, how Harry had been practically tortured by Umbridge, what Harry saw in the cave with Dumbledore, the battle with Inferi, and their whole adventure after they disappeared when Bill and Fleur's wedding was attacked. It was like some fairytale, like something Beadle the Bard would have written. But it was the absolute truth.

During this story, Harry had mentioned Voldemort's - or rather, Tom Riddle's past, and had briefly mentioned how Voldemort had framed Hagrid while they were in school for the murder of Moaning Myrtle, which had actually been the result. of looking directly into the eyes of his Basilisk.

While George remembered the whole fiasco with Hagrid being arrested and taken to Azkaban for the false crime of reopening the Chamber of Secrets, he had never actually bothered to learn the full story behind it. Actually, he and Fred had been quite busy worrying about their little sister, who had seemingly been getting ill. Now, years later, it seemed a large oversight on their part.

George remembered the first day they had met Hagrid. Not the first day they got off the train, no. It was the first time he, Fred and Lee Jordan and snuck down after hours to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Of course, as always, Professor Dumbledore had cautioned at the start of term feast that it was, obviously, forbidden. Which made it all the more enticing to the twins.

So they had managed to avoid all the teachers patrolling the corridors, though they narrowly avoided Peeves as he bounced around the halls screaming at the top of his lungs, and slipped by the door just before it was locked for the night. They, three flimsy little first years, ran down the grounds, not even seeing the cabin right there at the edge. They were too eager to find pixies, unicorns, centaurs or a werewolf. They were stupid, that's what they were.

The three of them hadn't counted on it being so dark in the forest. Or that even with _Lumos_ it wouldn't be enough to prevent them from wandering into Tarantacula territory. George remembered being terrified (Lee actually wet himself, though none of them ever mentioned that night) and Fred hadn't spoken for two weeks after that incident. But he also remembered the reason they were alive was because a giant had come lumbering through, yelling at the spiders to back off.

 _"_ _Oi! You lot! Get off them firs' years. Aragog won' be too pleased if you attack them, and neither will Dumbledore. Sure he'll give me permission to exterminate the lot of ye. Git, you pests."_

It never mattered that the three of them had lost two hundred points for Gryffendor that night. It didn't matter that he and Fred got loads of Howlers from Mum and Dad, and even Bill and Charlie. it didn't matter that for three months, they had detention every night along with extra homework and were banned from over a dozen school activities. They were alive - and they had finally met Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts.

Somehow, most of their detentions ended up being under his care (George always suspected Dumbledore might have had a hand in that, though he could never be sure) and they had become easy friends with the half giant man. Despite all his grumbling, George knew that Hagrid always found his and Fred's antics amusing, even comparing them to the Marauders once or twice or twenty, a comparison neither of the twins got until later that year when they nicked that glorious map from Filch's office.

Now, over twenty years later, George couldn't hep but smile as he reminisced those months spent in Hagrid's hut, helping him gut the giants slugs that infested his garden, mucking out the weeds surrounding the giant lake, helping him take care of the grounds. Once their detentions were over, admittedly, he and Fred and Lee had spent less time with him, choosing to immerse themselves back in school and otherwise less deadly antics than running through the forest. But they never stopped their visits, and they never forgot the service Hagrid had done them that night.

George let those memories wash over him as he held the next letter in his hand. There was no way he could ever forget Hagrid's rustic scrawl, the words " **Fred Weasley"** written boldly on the envelope, the letters sliding all over the place. He carefully peeled up the seal and slid the parchment out, noting that it was slightly damp and smelled of salt and whiskey. George unfolded it and saw that, while most of the letter was clear, some of the ink had smudged due to drops of moisture dotting the pages. Teardrops.

"Oh Hagrid." George hummed. "My dear friend."

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _It's been nineteen years. Nineteen. Can' help but think it was only yesterday tha' you - I won' even write it. Can't. If I do, it's like it happened all over again, and I won't put you through that a second time. Or yer brother for that matter. Doesn't seem fair._

 _I won't say you've missed a lot, cause I doubt you've left your family alone fer a second since it happened. You've doubtless noticed all the young Weasley's and Granger's and Potter's ya got runnin' around, drivin' all the teachers and me wild here at school. Though, I will say I don't really mind em all that much. Reminds me of when you and yer brother were at school, and when Harry's dad and his pals were here too. What a lot of ya._

 _I never expected ya ta die, Fred. Harry's faked death was hard enough, and we all knew it might come ta that. But you…..you were supposed to live. You were supposed to be happy with your brother and live to a ripe old age with that girl of yours, Angelina, and have a dozen kids. More Weasley's to run wild and nearly kill Headmistress McGonnagall. Lord, how she paled when Harry's son James came through. James Sirius Potter - he is a handful. Not to mention Teddy Remus Lupin, whose practically a Potter, and all those Weasley kids coming through. Hogwarts is practically overrun with yer lot!_

 _Oh, erm, Fred…if me dad is over on that side with you, could ya see if he's doing alright? And tell him that I'm doing alright meself? He passed before he really got to see that I was doing okay, and well, I want him to know I wasn't such a screwup after all._

 _Olympia and I - that's Madame Maxime, remember her? - are gettin' real close after all this time, and I think I'm about ready to move to settle down a bit. Maybe get a bigger cottage, or even splurge for one of those fancy places in France for her. Can you imagine me gettin' all fancy in a place like Europe? Nah….maybe just a bigger cottage then here on the grounds._

 _I'm crying, Fred, gawd. If you could only look at me, you'd a think I was a bawling little troll. Ugly and all blotched like a Blast-Ended Skrewt. I hate it cause it's making the ink run down the paper and go all splotchy and runny. Merlin I'ma mess._

 _Don't go forgetting your old pal Rubeus, now, don't cha. Remember the time I saved yours and your brother's sorry hide from Aragog's nest? And the time when I caught you trying climb the trees to try and catch sight of the centaurs, and before you could so much as break your leg, I just called Firenze out from where he was watching you and introduced you, all civil and like. And I won't mention the bow truckle incident, but….you remember. Fools, both of you. But brilliant. Absolutely brilliant._

 _I'll miss ya, Fred. As much as anybody ever could, I will miss you._

 _Yours,_

 _Rubeus Hagrid._

* * *

"As anybody ever could…" George whispered. "I never thought….Hagrid….."

He folded the letter and placed it on the pile.


	38. The Patil Papers (Part 1)

**A/N: I hope everyone's holidays were wonderful! I'm home from college for about a month and I'm excited to update and watch so many movies and binge Netflix….oh, and spend time with my family of course!**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

It seemed like all he was doing was reminiscing. George sighed as he stretched his arms above his head, taking a little pleasure in hearing his joints pop and snap. He cracked his knuckles, twisted his neck to release the pressure, even worked his jaw for a minute or two. It was a bad habit, one his wife and his mother both abhorred, but it relaxed him. Reminded him that stress could linger in every part of him.

There were so many letters, both on the bed and in that box. George still couldn't see the bottom, and it worried him. What if there was no end? What if someone (he suspected Ginny) charmed the box to have an endless stream of letters from friends, family, people he didn't know, random strangers, hell, even enemies, just to keep him occupied until he was nothing more than a pile of paper cuts and tears?

 _That is the stupidest thing you have ever thought._

George shook his head in agreement to Fred's voice. He blinked, widening his eyes in an effort to stave off the pull of sleep that had been poking at him for the last -

"Three and a half hours?" George exclaimed, checking his watch. "Mother of Merlin, have I really been up here that long?"

 _I don't see the big deal. We've been up here longer than that before._

"Yeah, when we were developing our Peruvian Darkness Powder or Puking Pastilles." George snarked. "I've been up here reading letters and - and crying my eyes out."

 _Again, I question the point you're trying to make._

"Everyone else is downstairs trying to make today mean something." George said. "And here I am, wallowing in myself and my own grief when I could be helping my family cope. I realize now….I mean, I finally understand…."

 _You finally see the grief they've been trying to hide from you._

"Exactly - wait, what do you mean hide?"

 _Oh come on, Georgie, don't be dense. You can't really think you're that self centered? Of course they were hiding their grief from you! Or at least, they were trying to, and for the most part, I'd say they succeeded. Look, I'm not saying that their losses weren't important, but you -_

"They figured I lost the most." George finished his sentence, just like he used to. "I lost half my soul, half my heart. Half of myself. And they thought the best thing was to hide how much they were hurting."

 _Didn't say it was a perfect plan, mate._

"I'll say." George huffed. "We certainly got the brains in the family didn't we, Fred?"

 _Hm. Well, let's see. Bill's a curse breaker, Charlie's a dragon tamer, Percy's a government man, Ron's a hero and an Auror, Ginny is a famous Quidditch player, and we built a multimillion franchise that seems to still be booming, even after my untimely death. I'd say we could even be bordering on genius, here, brother mine._

"Hmm." George didn't respond, his trademark grin an answer all on his own. Without looking, he reached into the box of letters and pulled out another envelope - or two. He frowned as he felt two distinct envelopes in his hand, as if they were attached to each other. Magic? He finally looked over, and could have slapped himself over his stupidity.

There were two envelopes, but they weren't held together by magic. They were held together by a simple purple and gold ribbon.

"Genius. Yeah." George muttered as he slowly pulled the ribbon free, letting it flutter to the floor where it blended surprisingly well to the theme of their old bedroom (purple and orange had been kind of their signature thing). He moved his gaze to the first envelope, and then to the second. "Padma and Pavarti? The Patil twins?"

 _Haven't heard their names in about -_

"Nineteen years." George finished. "Give or take. Yeah. Kind of lost track of them after the war. At least, that's what Harry and Hermione were talking about."

 _What?_

"Harry and Hermione. I - well, I overheard Hermione telling Harry that Luna was worried because she hadn't heard from Padma since the war. I mean, they roomed together in school and she was a close friend. But she hasn't really gotten in touch with anyone. And Hermione said that she had noticed that Pavarti had also seemingly vanished from England. No one had really heard from her either. It was as if the twins were just….gone."

 _Well, that's not suspicious._

The sarcasm was palpable.

"Look, they didn't seem particularly worried. And it wasn't exactly my main concern at the time, either."

 _It is now._

George couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes in annoyance at the sound of smugness in his brother's tone. Even when dead, his twin enjoyed rubbing things in his face. He placed Pavarti's letter in his lap and made to open Padma's.

"Well, let's solve this mystery, shall we?"

* * *

 _Dear Fred Weasley,_

 _I don't know if you'll know me at all. I wasn't in Gryffindor, though my sister was. I was a Ravenclaw, so perhaps you heard of me even if you never met me. Nevertheless, let me introduce myself. My name is Padma Riya Patil._

 _I heard of this letter project your mother was doing from Luna a few months ago. I haven't spoken to her since then, which is a regret of mine. She was always kind to me, to everyone, and I enjoyed her company, however odd it was. I will try and talk to her again soon, once things are settled._

 _After the battle, times were hard for my sister and me here in England. Our family had left, gone back to India, and my sister and I….we stayed in school. Those were dark days. You, at least, had the small luxury to be on the outside, fighting for something with a silver lining. On the inside, it was a lot harder to fight back. I think more of us would have died in the final fight, had it not been for Neville, the Room or Requirement, and Harry, of course. Any news of him, of his fight, of every day that passed where he was not captured or killed, it was a victory for all of us._

 _Pavarti and I were lucky, in the end of things. Both of us survived the war, as did our family, though they were several thousand miles away. We mourned with everyone who had died, like you, and Professor Lupin, and Lavender Brown. Pavarti was particularly distraught with her death, seeing as she had been first mauled by that were-beast monster, Fenrir Greyback. So, while we ourselves survived, it was not unscathed by wounds, both physically and emotionally. Some of the wounds still haven't healed._

 _I know she and I have all but disappeared from the wizarding world. At least, in London. Both Pavarti and I have returned to India, where our family has permanently relocated. England was never much of a home anyways, seeing as our mother's family lives here and our father had moved to London when he was seventeen. Pavarti and I were the first in our family to go to Hogwarts._

 _My sister is writing her own letter, so from here I will tell my own story and none of hers. Who knows what she will write. I have no doubt forgotten things, so it will hopefully be interesting to you._

 _I was on the outside of much that happened while we were in school. And by we, I mean myself and the Golden Trio, seeing as you and I were not only not in the same house, but not even in the same year. I was in Ravenclaw, and saw everything that happened at a distance. Of course, I heard things from my sister, but I was on the outside. Many of us were. We were like side characters in the story of someone else's life: not all that important for anything other than substance. It wasn't until maybe my fourth year when things began to happen over in my little bubble. Those Beauxbatons girls were seated at our table, and I finally began to see what it was like to be involved. And the Yule Ball - Harry and Ron were our dates, though they were poor ones at that. Still, it was nice to go with someone, and Ron was a decent dancer, even though we only danced to one song. I ended up spending the night with a nice Durmstrang boy, as did my sister. And then, there was Dumbledore's Army the next year and it was like I was seeing in colors are living in a world of grey. What excitement!_

 _That is most of what I can recall being a part of. Then Dumbledore died and the dark days began. I was scared that something would happen to Pavarti, my twin. You understand, do you not? What it's like to be half of a whole, the entire world to somebody? I doubt she and I are as close as you and George were - the two of you, thick as thieves and as clever as foxes - but you understand. Just as I understand. To lose part of yourself….that's what losing a twin is. It's not just mourning the loss of a family member, a brother or a sister. It's literally tearing your heart into pieces. I was terrified of my heart breaking if I lost my sister._

 _I am unmarried right now, and working in the Cultural Municipals office at the Ministry of Magic. I Apparate to work everyday so I can stay with my family in India and still be involved with the magical circuit. The office is relatively new and very small, so I am not surprised that no one has noticed me working there yet, even Hermione._

 _I wish to visit your family one day soon. I'll get back into contact with Luna, and perhaps she can take me over. I'd love to talk to Harry, Ron and Hermione again, and Ginny and George. I heard that you're family has grown very much over the last nineteen years. I think I'd like to see that._

 _From,_

 _Your old schoolmate,_

 _Padma Patil._


	39. The Patil Papers (Part 2)

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! I'm really happy you like what I'm writing, and that's just the inspiration I need to write some more!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter characters and etc.**

 **Please review!**

 _Dear Fred Weasley,_

 _My name is Pavarti Saanvi Patil. I don't know if you will remember me, seeing as I was a few years below you, the same year are your brother Ron and Harry and Hermione, but I was in Gryffindor, unlike my twin sister, Padma, who was in Ravenclaw._

 _I don't really know where to begin. For a long time, it was like I was watching a film of someone else's life, as if I was a side character simply observing what went on around me. I mean, as a Gryffindor, I watched everything Harry, Ron, and Hermione did over the years, from a distance. And same with you and George, watching your antics and the pranks and the planning of that stupendous shop of yours._

 _I got a chance to be a little closer to that exclusive circle in my fourth year, when I was Harry's date to the Yule Ball, and my sister, Padma, was Ron's. They were terrible dates, honestly, but I can't blame them. A lot happened that year. And then the next year, with Dumbledore's Army, it was as if I was finally a part of something important, something vital. It was invigorating to be learning to fight, really fight. It came in handy a few years later._

 _Can I also say that what you and your brother did that year, setting off those fireworks during exams and driving Umbridge completely wild - it was spectacular. No one can lift people's spirits, make people smile in times of darkness, to make people feel happy again, like the two of you can._

 _But then things weren't the same when you left. No one was around to keep up morale, to cheer up the first years when things got bad. Everyone tried, but they weren't you, or George. And then with Dumbledore's death, with the fallout with Professor Snape and Draco and the Death Eaters invading the castle - and then the year after. I don't know what would have happened if it wasn't for Neville and the Room of Requirement. It protected us. It kept my sister safe._

 _You were always lucky, you and your family. Harry and Hermione were in Gryffindor, your entire family, all your brothers and you sister, were in Gryffindor. You always knew where they were, how to keep track of them. My sister was in Ravenclaw. She was on the other side of the castle. We never had classes with them, so the only time I could see my twin was during meal times in the Great Hall, or study periods, or Hogsmeade weekends. It was torture. You, off all people, can understand how I feel. To not be able to be with the other half of your soul, the mirror image of yourself._

 _The next year, after Harry and Ron and Hermione disappeared, it was a hard time. We were all treated like soldiers, like recruitments for the Dark War. What the Carrows did to us, what they tried to make us do….it was awful. It was awful, Fred. And then the war broke out. And that's where the training from Dumbledore's Army came in handy. It was the only reason so many of us survived, It was the only reason my sister and I survived._

 _I know she and I more or less disappeared after the Battle of Hogwarts. I know Luna was concerned for Padma, and Hermione was concerned for me, especially after Lavender's death. My family had left England once the war started - or at the very least, after Dumbledore's death - and moved back to India. She and I met them there, and we are here still. Padma has a job in the Ministry, but she Apparates there every day. If there's a way to let Luna know that, I would appreciate it. I know Padma said she would contact her, but I'm not sure she will. She's hesitant like that, even more so after all we've been through._

 _As for myself, I'm currently working on a book. I know, that's not what you expected to hear. But it's true - I'm writing a book of cultural differences in the magical community, specifically in the regions of India and London, seeing as I grew up in both, and Padma is helping me, seeing as she works in the Cultural Municipal office in the Ministry. I want people to understand the differences of people, to not be afraid and to not judge. I learned that in fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament when the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang schools came to visit. People judged them before they knew them, based on stereotypes and appearances and assumptions. Some things that my sister and I are familiar with, seeing as we are Indian and going to school at Hogwarts where we are curiosities of sorts for our clothing, our culture._

 _I still talk to a boy I met during the Yule Ball, Nikoli Varchek. He's helping me with some outside opinions with his own experience. I'm hoping this book will be a success, seeing as I've been working on it for years._

 _I'm sure my sister's letter is, or will be, depending on who you read first, much more informative than mine was. I just….I am at a loss with what else I can say. I never knew you very well, Fred. I wish I did, but I never got the chance. Perhaps, once I figure out what I'm doing with my life, once my book is officially complete, I can reconnect with Hermione, maybe reconnect with George. I'd like that, really._

 _From,_

 _Your old schoolmate,_

 _Pavarti Patil._

* * *

George folded her letter and laid it beside her sister's, tucking both of them onto the very growing pile of grief that had mounted on his old bed. So many people had something to say about his brother, his Fred. And out of all of them so far, even his family, these two hit him the hardest. Because they understood. They were twins as well, and they knew the pain of losing each other, or at least the possibility of losing each other.

The battle had been terrifying. Friends and families had been separated and torn apart and left to wonder whether they would see each other alive again. In his case, he had watched his own brother die right before his eyes as that wall exploded in a burst of green light, screams, rubble and rocks flying everywhere, and Fred - Fred had been lying there, eyes wide open, his last smile etched on his face -

George choked back a sob right then, and covered his face with his hands as a wave of fresh tears overtook him and he lost himself in both new and old grief.


	40. The Lovegood Letters

**A/N: Here's a longer chapter because I haven't really been updating for a few weeks. Things have been going on and I just got a lot more than fan fictions on my mind.**

 **Please continue to review! I mean it, guys , please. I love reading your comments.**

* * *

It took a while, but eventually George calmed down enough to conjure himself a glass of water. Even if the door wasn't warded by his dead brother's annoying ghost, he really didn't feel like heading downstairs to the kitchen to refresh himself, or even opening the door to head to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. For now, this simple magic would have to be enough until every last letter was gone from the box.

The Patil letters aside, George reached back into the box to pull out another heavy envelope. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this one would have more than one letter as well.

"What, is there a shortage of trees? Everyone cutting back on individuality?" George made a half ass quip, and he could feel Fred smirk at the lame attempt at a joke.

 _Pitiful. That wasn't even remotely funny. It wasn't even clever. Really, Georgie, you're floundering without my wit._

"Your wit was as dull as Percy's essay on Cauldron Upkeep and Varnishing Techniques. All seventy pages of it."

 _Ouch. Now that hurts._

"Did I dent your pride?"

 _I'll have to take it into the shop to be repaired._

"Tell them to deflate the ego a little bit."

 _George, George, George. Why all this sarcastic cynicism? You're alive and well, you have a family -_

"I'm trapped in my childhood bedroom with the ghost of my twin brother who won't let me leave until I read another, what, forty letters….."

 _Ah. Getting a little tiresome, I assume?_

"Well, it's not like you have to read any of this."

 _Au contraire, mon frere. I am reading, every itty bitty word. Remember, I'm right there with you. In spirit. Just imagine I was hexed with a Silencing Spell and then hit with a Disillusionment Charm. Can't hear me out loud, can't see me, but I'm there. Always will be._

George sighed and wondered when, during this span of three to four hours that he'd been trapped in this room, having a conversation in his mind has become comforting to him. And it was actually a sane conversation, at that! If he even believed it was real, he might actually consider that Fred was right there with him, a ghost or apparition. But the only ghosts he had ever seen before were the ones that roamed the Hogwarts halls. Surely, all ghosts would be as visible and semi-transparent as them, wouldn't they? By that logic, shouldn't Fred be visible to him here and now? Or was it only within the walls of great magical places like Hogwarts that the departed souls could walk again?

 _Stop._

Fred's voice was sad but it was firm and clear as if he had been sitting right behind him. Quickly, George turned around to check, but all he saw was the other empty bed, the window and the slowly darkening sky beyond that.

 _Stop trying to figure things out. Especially since you're not really meant to know the answers to that. Can't you take what comfort I can give you like this? Can't you just accept that without question and move on? Just open the letters, read, grief, accept and move on, George._

"Impatient to leave me?" George muttered, but the question was real, and so was hurt underneath it.

 _More like I'm ready to let you start to really heal._

George didn't respond to that, only picked up the heavy envelope and opened it as fast as he could without ripping the parchment. As soon as he opened it, papers upon paper came slipping out, some even sliding to the floor. As George reached inside, he watched with amazement as more and more items kept coming out of the altogether much too small envelope. Someone must have used an Undetectable Extension Charm as well as a Lightweight Spell on it to fit so many things. Finally, George reached in and felt nothing left and he set the envelope aside, now turning his wide eyed attention to the very large pile in his lap - and on his floor.

"What the bloody hell." George said slowly. "Who - I mean, what in the world? Who in their right mind would do something like this?"

 _Ah, and see, that's where you're assumption is wrong, my dear brother._

"What?"

 _You're assuming that they are in fact in their right minds, when we know that they are not! At least, they don't exactly follow the same general guidelines as you and me….and most everyone else in the world._

George took a closer look at the things that had piled up around him; various flower petals, colored stones, an oddly made dreamcatcher, several Quibblers, all from the last few months (not that he had a subscription, though Ginny did regularly forward certain editions to him). There were drawings, too, and as he looked closer, he saw that they were all very well done and they were all of him…of him and Fred, and of his mum and dad and Percy and Ginny and Charlie and Bill and Fleur and everyone. Harry, Ron, Hermione, everyone. But the ones of him and Fred (or was it just Fred? He couldn't really tell in some of them) seemed to be the most popular. There were dozens, all side profiled sketches and renderings. George stared at the incredible detail from afar, not willing to reach out and actually touch any of them.

"I…"

 _Come on, Georgie pordgie. You know who did this._

Of course he did. Luna had always been talented with the art and flowers kind of thing. And she was literally the only person he knew that would actually send him an entire garden in a letter. He chuckled and pulled his wand from where he had tucked it in his sleeve. With one elegant flick of his wrist, the entire pile gathered itself up and he watched with a casual appreciation as one by one, each picture tidied itself up into a neat little portfolio of sorts, each magazine sorted itself by date, and the flowers and stones were swept into a smaller pile beside that, making everything nice and neat.

 _Looks lovely, George. You'll make a lovely housewife with those skills._

"Shut up you ass." George said, but it was more out of habit now than any actually annoyance. Just like it was almost habit now to reach out and pick up the two thick letters that were resting on top of the new pile and pull them to his lap. The first one, he could tell, must be Xenophilious's, Luna's father. The ink was darker, thicker and had a bolder stroke to it. That, and there were smudges all around the parchment, as if he had gotten ink or charcoal on his fingers and hadn't noticed as he touched and folded the letter. Which was actually likely, knowing the Lovegoods.

* * *

 _Dear Messr. Fred Weasley,_

 _We met only once if I recall. It was at your brother Bill's wedding. I'll refresh your memory - my daughter and I were wearing bright yellow, in honor of the happiness and peace and good luck that your brother and his new wife were sure to have in their newly joined life. Ring any bells? Ah, well anyways, my name is Xenophilius Lovegood. You, of course, are well acquainted with my daughter, Luna._

 _I heard of your heroic death from my daughter after the battle had finished. You see, I wasn't there. I had….made some choices that left me utterly bereft and unable to fight alongside my fellow free wizards and thus, leaving my daughter to fend for the both of us with those who bravely fought against the corrupt darkness. I had no idea she was even alive….until she came running up the fields a few hours after it had all ended. I was in my home - or what remained of it. It had gotten destroyed when - well, that is another matter entirely, isn't it?_

 _Oh, what's the point in it anymore? Harry, Ron and Hermione have done good by me in that they have remained silent over what transpired nineteen years ago, and I know they have done that for Luna's sake, not for mine._

 _They took her from me. His followers. They took my Luna because of what I was writing in The Quibbler, how I supported Harry and the Order and believed in a world without the Dark Arts. They didn't take too kindly to that, oh no. And they took my Luna to make me behave. She had been missing since before Easter, and it wasn't as though I could tell anyone. No, many students were disappearing with their families from school, so she wasn't missed there. And I was being watched, and as were the Weasley's, who were known Potter supporters, so it wouldn't have been wise to call to them. It would have gotten everyone arrested…or killed._

 _And then, out of the blue, Harry Potter shows up on my doorstep with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger in tow - and I knew I had the only chance to get my Luna back. So I sent an owl to them, the ones who had taken her, the Death Eaters, saying I had Potter at my house.I just wanted my daughter back, you understand. I didn't really want to hand them over to You - Know - Who. You have to believe me. Please don't think I would sell your family out over mine….but she is all I have left in this world. It wasn't a matter of whose lives meant more. It was a matter of protecting the last piece of my world, my only reason for living. I had no idea if she was alive or dead, if she was being treated decently or if they were torturing her beyond comprehension. I had no idea…._

 _Her mother died when she was just a little girl. When she was nine, in fact. Pandora, her mother, always loved to experiment with spells, convinced she would be able to invent her own if she worked hard enough. Unfortunately, it's a dangerous profession, meddling with spells, and one of them backfired…..Luna witnessed everything. My darling girl. Her mother's death changed her. It changed both of us. Sometimes I blame myself for how she turned out. She turned out a lot like me. Always with her head in the clouds, her feet always a few feet from the ground. Pandora was the sensible, more rational and less absentminded parent._

 _Not that my Luna turned out bad, oh my no. She's married now with children of her own and I have never been more proud of her in my life. She's very smart, a real whip. Perhaps I didn't do such a bad job after all._

 _Mister Weasley, Fred, sir, if you happen to meet my lovely departed wife in the beyond where you are, can you please tell her that I've gotten her messages? So has Luna and we understand. We love her and can't wait to one day see her again, when the time is right._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Xenophilius Lovegood._

"What did he mean by messages?" George wondered quietly.

 _George…_

'No, Fred. What did he mean?"

There was tension in the silence that followed. George wondered if he misunderstood what Mr. Lovegood had written, but no….no it was clear that there was something Fred wasn't telling him.

 _Look, it's not what your thinking. She never went to them, never sent them a sign that she was there. Nothing visible anyway._

"I don't understand." George said.

 _Every person that passes on can let their loved ones know that they're not alone. It's like what I'm doing now, here, for you._

"So what -"

 _Pandora Lovegood knew that her experiments were dangerous. She knew that it was only a matter of time before something went seriously wrong so she left a contingency plan in the event she was seriously hurt or killed in her work. The problem was, she hadn't had time to leave any clues or letters or even clue her family in to those messages before her death so after she died, it was years before either one of them found anything. Believe me, it's been driving her insane._

"You're with Luna's mother?" George asked.

 _Well, yeah. Look, it's kind of complicated, but basically, anyone who's waiting for someone on the other side comes to this kind of limbo._

"You're waiting for someone?" George said, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the second.

 _No shit, Sherlock. Can't peaceably pass on into the afterlife without you, now can I?_

George didn't know how to respond to that. He and his brother had never been the types to really get into all that sentimental stuff. Even with Angelina, George was more the subtle affection kind of guy, more of an "actions speak louder than words" man. It was the way he was, mainly because with Fred, the only person who could read his mind as soon as the thought took place, he had never had to say anything out loud. They both had just known.

 _Open the other letter, idiot._

And they were back to their normal timbre. George let himself smile the smallest bit before reaching for Luna's letter.

* * *

 _Fred,_

 _Hello. I'm sure you already knew this letter was coming. I bet my mother told you, or perhaps you read my father's letter already and assumed mine would be next. Either way, I'm glad you're reading this. There is so much to tell you and not enough parchment in my desk. First off, you're probably wondering how I knew you and my mother were together in heaven. Well, that's easy. Where else could you be? I know my mother's waiting for me on the other side, and I know you are going to wait for George for however long it takes. Easy enough to assume you would be waiting together._

 _I hope you're well, Fred. I know we weren't close friends during school, seeing as I was a few years below you and in Ravenclaw. And not to mention that most everyone called me "Loony". That's alright, I don't blame you. I don't blame anyone. I was sort of odd in school, wasn't I? A little spacey, a little off. Ginny was my first real friend in a long time. She and Padma. And there was Cho Chang, for some time. They were all nice to me, as was Harry and Ron and Hermione. I never knew you or your brother well enough to know if we were friends, though I did enjoy the invitation to your brother's wedding. It was fun. I enjoyed dancing and I was even bitten by one of the gnomes in your garden._

 _I spent some years after school ended traveling. I went to visit Romania, and I got in touch with your brother, Charlie. Ginny thought we might hit it off, as friends, I mean. He's rather interesting. A bit like me, seeing as his interest is most outside of what people could consider normal. His work with dragons is inspiring, though he was lacking on his information of Metabites, which are nearly invisible fleas that drain the strength of a dragon's scales with these tentacles that are attached to their heads. Can you believe he didn't think those actually existed?_

 _He was the one who introduced me to Rolf, my husband. Oh yes, I'm married now. And to Rolf Scamander of all people! His grandfather is the Newt Scamander, author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and your brother Charlie's idol. Now Rolf, he knew all about Metabites and Nargles and Wrackspurts. He took me to see his grandfather, Newt, and to see this wonderful case of theirs, where inside has the most wonderful portable zoo and sanctuary I've ever seen! I mean, Occamy's and Demiguises and Nifflers and Mooncows…they were all there! He used to even have a Thunderbird, but he was released back into the wild long ago._

 _Rolf was the one who inspired me to be a Magizoologist, which is what he is and what his grandfather was in his time. Now I spend every day finding and recording new and rare magical creatures. Hagrid and I correspond every week, and I get to tell him what I've found and send him small samples and pictures for him to teach in his classes. It's really quite fascinating._

 _Oh, but I was saying that I'm married. Yes, Rolf and I were married about twelve years ago, and I'm also a mother. Did my dad say anything in his letter about that? Probably not. But it's true, I'm a mother! I never thought I would be. Not that i never wanted children, I just didn't think about having them._

 _I have two boys, Lorcan and Lysander. Wonderful boys. They are just as excitable and curious and clever as Rolf and myself. I'm happy to report that Ginny has us over all the time, and the boys love to meet up with James and Albus and Teddy. It's so amusing - Ginny's daughter, Lily Luna (I was so honored) seems to have a crush on Lysander. How adorable! It's just a crush, but as Harry and Ginny know, sometimes a childhood crush can lead to so much more in the future._

 _This is where I leave you now, Fred Weasley. Lorcan and I are going to visit Newt and Tina at their house in New York and we have to get to the Portkey to the MACUSA station._

 _All the love,_

 _Luna Lovegood Scamander_


	41. Neville Longbottom's Letter

**A/N: Here is a chapter I know many of you have been dying to see! Yes! It's time for some much awaited Neville fluff! I always thought Neville was such a sweet heart, especially since he seemed to be the scapegoat for so much early on, and then BAM! He was one of the heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts! What a character.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

George didn't have vivid memories of the battle of Hogwarts. He didn't. He knew that's what most people thought, that when you went through something traumatic, it stayed imprinted in your mind, as clear as the day it happened, making you relive every second of it every time you so much as closed your eyes. That's not actually true. He barely remembered any of it. What he did remember came in flashes of faces and colors and sounds. He remembered seeing the colors of red and green as spells from both sides fired back and forth at high speed, sometimes hitting dead center, sometimes missing by barely an inch. He remembered the sounds fo screams, screams of terror, screams of names and warnings, and the warrior cries of those making their last stand. And he remembered seeing Professor McGonnagall's face, drawn tight with pain and fury and endless sadness. He remembered seeing Angelina, Seamus and Dean. Seeing Harry, Ron, Hermione….Bill and Fleur….Percy…..his mum and Dad…..and Fred. Perhaps that was what was the most clear in his mind. Fred's prone body lying on the floor of the Great Hall, eyes closed, the ghost of his last laugh etched on his face. Even now, that image came into his mind as if he was seeing it now, and even now, he could feel his chest tighten and the pain of loss wash over him.

He didn't see it every day, like people thought. There were days, sometimes weeks, that went by when he didn't have those images flashing behind his eyes. But then they would always come back full force, as if his brain considered him guilty for not pining always over his soul, his brother. Those were his dark days. Days when the joke shop was either run by his employees or closed altogether so he could wallow in his own emotions. Days when Ginny would have her alternate come in for her matches and she would come hold him or drag him out to the old field where they used to play as children so they could fly and blow up apples and just unwind. Days when Angelina would send Roxanne and Fred Jr over to Harry and Ginny's, or Ron and Hermione's, for an impromptu sleepover.

It's not he asked for any of that. If he had his wish, he wished he could forget it ever happened. Or wish that Fred hadn't paid the price.

Pulling out the next letter, George was surprised at what flashed through his mind. He could remember the moment clearly: Voldemort striding through the front gates, his army of Death Eaters behind him, Hagrid in bonds and carrying Harry's supposedly lifeless body. His declaration that they must submit to him or be slaughtered as a result. He remembered the moment when Harry leapt from Hagrid's arms, firing a spell at Voldemort and then dashing away. He remembered being filled with hope for a second before turning to share it with Fred - only to remember that Fred was no longer by his side.

But that wasn't specifically what he was recalling now. No…it was something that had happened before that….it was Neville. Neville, the shy awkward boy who hadn't really been anything remarkable during their school years together. He had a knack for being a little clumsy, average in his studies and always in some kind of trouble. But the last few years had changed that broken little boy and he had become a pillar of strength for other students. And in the end, when it seemed that Harry was gone, that all they stood for was being ground into dust, it was Neville who strode forward (or rather, limped) and took the last stand.

* * *

 _"_ _I'd like to say something. It doesn't matter that Harry's gone. People die every day - friends…..family. Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he's still with us….in here. So is Fred, Remus, Tonks….all of them. They didn't die in vain! But you will! Cause you're wrong! Harry's heart did beat for us! For all of us! It's not over!"_

* * *

And that was where chaos ensued as suddenly Neville had a sword and Harry was suddenly alive and everyone was yelling and casting spells and Disapparating and it was once again a bloody, brutal madhouse.

George turned over Neville's letter in his hands, wondering what secrets it hid, what new information he would glean from yet another quick interlude into someone else's point of view. He broke the seal, not sure if he was ready to find out, but needing to know in any case.

* * *

 _Fred,_

 _How can I write this? You were always such a presence in my life, in all our lives, and for you to be gone, even nineteen years later, is still hard. It's like the sun gave out, leaving our world in darkness, leaving the moon to be our new sun. It still shines, still gives us light, but it's not as bright as the sun. It's not as bright without the sun's light to reflect._

 _Don't give me credit for being wise. I read that somewhere, most likely in a book Hermione leant me once. It's something I like to remember from time and again, and I thought it fit perfectly here._

 _Well, I guess now I tell you what I've been up to the last nineteen years. Yes, I've been talking to Hermione and Luna and Cho and of course your Mum has kept me informed of what the purpose of these letters are. I guess I never thought I'd have to write it all down. Puts things into perspective._

 _You died right before the lull in the war. Voldemort gave us an hour, from eleven to midnight, as his sort of "reasonable goodwill gesture" so we could gather and mourn our dead. So many people were put into the Great Hall. Lavender Brown (she died a little later, but she was far gone anyways. She was taken out by Fenrir Greyback and died of her injuries) and Remus and Tonks (they were found together). And then there was you, Fred. And while every death is tragic, yours was one that hit the hardest, for everyone. Yours, and Harry's for the brief moment we believed him gone. But you, Fred…you were always this ray of hope. You and George were the reason so many of us were able to make it through those dark days, your shop being the brightest in Diagon Alley, your joke products making kids laugh and smile wide when all they want to do is cry. Believe me, I know._

 _I tried to stand up to him. I did. For the first time in my life, I did something. That year, that dark year, was when I came into my own. I did what you used to, and I tried to protect the first years, the ones who had no idea that things could be better. I protected my friends, anyone and everyone who needed help. I had the Room of Requirement set up to save the members of Dumbledore's Army, those dedicated to standing up against the Death Eaters and rebelling the new regime of Snape. And in the end, I tried to stand up for you, for Remus and Tonks and Harry, and when I pulled that sword out of the sorting hat…..I knew that I was a true Gryffindor after all._

 _You see, I had my doubts over the years about whether or not the sorting hat had made a mistake. I thought I would be a Hufflepuff, which isn't all bad. But when I was placed in Gryffindor, it was a total shock. Sure, my grandmother was super proud of me and all, but I remember thinking that I wasn't brave. I wasn't strong or determined or anything that Gryffindors are. And for years, as I was ridiculed and bullied and absolutely flunking at nearly everything, I thought there had to have been a mistake. But in the darkest of times…..something inside me lit up and I was able to do the things I had dreamed of doing. I ended up being just like Harry in that moment, just like Ron and Hermione and you and George and Ginny. I made the decision that no matter what happened, I would give everything I had to make sure that no one else died at Voldemort's hands._

 _After the battle, things were messy for a while. You know, what with the Ministry being in utter shambles and the school being demolished and everyone we loved either emotionally scarred, wounded or dead. Sorry, that was kind of harsh. Anyway, we all came back, finished our schooling the way we were supposed to, and then we were let off into the world, ready to begin our new lives, our new jobs._

 _Before that year, I honestly didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life. I had never really given anything much thought, thinking I was too weak to really carry anything out. But guess what? I became an Auror! Not for long, mind you, but for three years, I followed in my parents footsteps. Did you know that? Did you know that they were Aurors? They were, right around the time they joined the original Order of the Phoenix. They were Aurors when they were tortured. I know you saw them at Saint Mungo's way back then, how they were mostly catatonic. Bellatrix tortured them so badly that there isn't any hope of recovery. Some days are better than others. Some days, I believe my mother recognizes me. Her smile is a little more genuine, and her eyes seem to really see me. I believe she would have been proud of me. My father too, though he is worse for wear than my mother._

 _Anyways, as I was saying, after three years of being an Auror, I resigned from my position. It wasn't that I wasn't good at being an Auror. On the contrary, I was often paired up with Harry and Ron, and the three of us, with our teams, would head out on missions. It was an honor to work beside them. But the truth is, I wasn't happy. I didn't want a job where there was always the possibility that I wouldn't make it back home. I had finally found myself a girl - do you remember Hannah Abbott? She was a Hufflepuff in my year, and after the war, about a year and a half after, she and I met up and we started talking and we went for coffee and one thing led to another and we started dating. And now, we're married. Have been for fifteen years._

 _It's amazing isn't it? I mean, me being married. And Hannah's amazing! She bought the Leaky Cauldron and runs the place now, and being landlady really helped her manage her time while I was off being an Auror. And then, when I quit, for the year I was unemployed, I helped around instead so she could focus on training to be a Healer. And then guess what? We both got hired - at Hogwarts._

 _Over the years I was in school, I realized that I had a natural affinity for Herbology. That's one of the reasons I thought I should have been a Hufflepuff. So I studied, the year I was unemployed, and then I got in touch with Minerva - Headmistress McGonnagall. And she agreed that I would be a perfect replacement for Professor Sprout, who had been eyeing retirement for some time. And then shortly after that, Hannah told me that she had been accepted at Hogwarts as well as the new Matron. Turns out Madam Pomfrey had been looking forward to the end of her school career as well. So now we hire some extra help around the Leaky Cauldron and now we spend every day working together. It's actually very nice, not to mention I get to help kids learn._

 _Plus, I get to see everyone's kids come through! James Sirius and Fred Jr and Teddy and Albus - all of them come to Herbology every year and let me tell you, it's very funny when they have to go from Uncle Neville to Professor Longbottom. Hilarious. And when they get sent to the Hospital Wing and have to ask for Aunt Hannah - now Madam Longbottom - it just makes my day. It makes Hogwarts all the more magical, to me._

 _That's all there is to me, Fred. I've done well. I'm proud of myself, of the life I've made for myself. I'm no longer the kid who gets tricked into eating a Canary Cream. Oh, I'm not mad about that anymore! It's a memory, a really good one, one that I treasure because it's when things were really good. When things were happier. When you were alive._

 _I hope that you're happy where you are, Fred. I hope that you're with my grandfather and with Dumbledore and Tonks and Remus and Harry's parents and Cedric - are you with Cedric? All of this, everything that happened all those years ago, it's for him too. He was part of the reason we started to fight. He's the reason we created Dumbledore's Army, so that we could save each other from being taken out by surprise, the way Cedric was._

 _You will be remembered, Fred. Always and forever by those that love you._

 _Neville Longbottom._


	42. Penelope Clearwater's Letter

**A/N: Wow I am so sorry for the long break. I hate that I haven't been able to update in so long, but I hope to fix that soon. I have a hectic week coming up but I figured I could take the small amount of time I have right now to send one quick update your way since you guys are so great to me and this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters, places, references, etc. Everything in this wonderful Wizarding World belongs to the awe-inspiring J.K. Rowling.**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

"How the hell do we know so many people?" George muttered to himself in amazement as he pulled yet another letter from the box. "Seriously, Penelope Clearwater? I haven't heard from her in at least twelve years. Why in the name if Merlin's saggy Y-fronts would she be writing a letter to us - you - now?"

 _Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she dated dear old Percy for eight years and was practically estranged family?_

 _"_ She and Percy haven't been a thing in ages, though…"

 _Does that really need to matter?_

"I guess not…" George shrugged and flipped the letter open. "I was just wondering, you know. No need to get all snippy with me, Your Highness."

 _Weasley is King, after all, peasant._

"You remember that song was directed at our little brother, first as a series of insults, then because he played probably one of the greatest games of Quidditch the school has seen?"

 _Royalty by relation then._

George snorted and rolled his eyes. This echoed so many conversations from their past, and it left him with a myriad of feelings, an odd mixture of happiness and calm with splashes of anger and an old pain. He noted, with some surprise, that the pain wasn't as harsh as it used to be. Or rather, as it had been these nineteen years. It wasn't gone completely, not by a long shot, but it was muted, as if the wound had finally stopped bleeding and a bandage could be wrapped around it tighter.

Maybe it was the letters, or maybe it was the sound of his brother in his ear, but George knew he was starting to heal, and it wasn't as bad as he had always imagined.

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _It has been quite a while since we last spoke. It had been years even before you passed away so bravely. Do you remember me, Penelope Clearwater? Normally, I would doubt it, being that I was in Ravenclaw and a few years older than you, but Percy and I did used to date. And it is for that reason why I write to you after these many years of silence. I knew Percy once, loved him, and while things between us didn't work out, I have never stopped caring for him, nor for your whole family._

 _Percy and I dated for five years. I know, you and George heckled him the most about getting a girlfriend, and of course, somehow, managing to get me. But the truth is, Percy isn't all brains and booksmarts, okay, he has depth to him. Something I believe you and your family learned once Percy came to his senses. Oh, I know all about the fallout. It was a contributing factor to our breakup. I'll get to that later in my letter._

 _Anyways, as I was saying, Percy has depth to him. I was working in the library late one night and Percy came through. He obviously didn't realize I was a prefect and came over to scold me about being out of bed. I scolded him right back, told him that he should get ff his high horse for once and mingle amongst the crowd and maybe then he wouldn't be such a joke to the younger years. I never expected him to take it so personally and before I knew it, we were talking softly about our fears, our families, our careers. I found him sweet, and when he asked me if I'd like to go to Hogsmeade with him, I said yes. Pretty soon, we were going steady,_

 _I don't think it was love, not for either of us. But it was nice to have somebody, somebody to hold me and to talk to and to claim as my own and to be claimed. At some point, it became tedious, though. And Percy was withdrawing deeper and deeper into himself and the Ministry, and it was like I no longer mattered, like I didn't exist. And what with the war coming….and with his fallout from family, it was like nothing mattered to him anymore except trying to fix things, but that boy and his pride….I ended things between us. I know that sounds cold and heartless, but I couldn't go on like a dog on a leash, at his beck and call, being fed only when he remembered I was there._

 _I tried to convince him to go back to you guys much earlier than he did, before the war got too bad. I told him that he didn't know you all would make it out of it alive so it would be best to make amends now. He didn't listen to me._

 _I didn't fight in the war. I went with my family to a safe house, and whether or not that makes me a coward is irrelevant. It made me smart because I survived. Somedays, though, I do wish I had been there. To meet you all officially. To see Percy finally break down those walls of his._

 _I got a letter from Percy a few years back. He told me everything, about your death, how he had greatly reconnected with his family, and how he married Audrey and had two little girls, Lucy and Molly. He apologized, too, for how he had treated me in the end of our relationship. He admitted that he knew we were never meant to be, as I did, but he wished, as I do, that it had ended in a better time, on better terms._

 _I am happy that he is finally happy, and has opened his heart to someone who can better nourish him like I never really could. All we had together was mutual loneliness and intellect. A relationship can't survive on that alone. I haven't told him as much, of course. It took me a long time to realize this on my own, and he'll have to do the same if he hasn't already._

 _I haven't done much with myself in these past…nineteen years? Probably much longer than tat since I last spoke with anyone else in your family. Not married, working at a Muggle hospital part time, and part time at St. Mungos. I haven't really figured what I want to do yet, except maybe figure out a way to start merging Muggle and Wizarding medicines. There's so much we can actually learn from each other if we can only move past the bigotry we all have._

 _I don't know if this letter was helpful at all. It certainly wasn't sappy, I don't think, so I don't think I made you sad. I just wrote this because…well, you were a part of my life, even at a distance. And everyone deserves to know how they touched people's lives. You deserve to know that you were so loved, Fred Weasley. By everyone you met. I doubt that even a single being on this earth could find it in their heart to ever truly hate you._

 _Fare thee well, Fred. Take care of yourself wherever you are. I hope your looking down on all of us._

 _Penelope Clearwater_

* * *

George nodded his head as he finished Penelope's letter. She was right - it wasn't a particularly sad, sappy letter that made him cry and reevaluate himself and Fred and the pain he was feeling. But she had had some important things to say, and if he was being honest, he was very glad she had written to Fred. Even though her letter had mainly been about Percy.

But then, Percy had been there at the end of Fred's life, and Percy had blamed himself for so long about Fred's death. George had never blamed him. It was a tragic accident in the middle of a war, and the only one George blamed in the end was Voldemort and the decisions that sad, twisted soul had made. Killing hundreds of people, corrupting good souls, killing parents and brothers and children and sisters, husbands and wives, friends, people who deserved to live a life that they chose, not that was chosen for them.

"And isn't that the hard truth." George sighed to the empty room.


	43. Flitwick's Letter

**A/N: I know this story seems to be dragging on forever, but believe me, I have a plan. Every chapter, every character that writes a letter, has purpose. This story is about how one person can touch so many lives without knowing it.**

 **Please continue to review! I read every single one that comes my way, and I take all your words to heart, so if you have something (kind) to say, please say it! (Also, there might be a Supernatural quote in here, albeit a small one).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was dark outside now. George had used his wand to light the room so he wouldn't have to move from his position. He knew by now that his mother and father would have retired to bed, the emotional turmoil of the day having drained them of the little energy they had to begin with. That just left the rest of his family, nieces and nephews and all, downstairs…..he really hd no idea what they might be doing, but he knew none of them would have left. Harry and Ginny would be sleeping in her old room, and the same for Ron and Hermione. Angelina would, eventually, make her way up the stairs here for the night, and Percy and Audrey and Bill and Fleur and Charlie….they all would find their old rooms, which hadn't changed much in the nineteen-plus years. The kids - and Merlin, there were a surplus of them - would probably either crash with parents or in the living room. Maybe someone would set a tent up in the backyard and they could all sleep outside. It was summer, and warm….and they used to do it when they were kids, too. All the time.

"Remember," George said aloud, "that one summer night, when all of us, Ginny included, decided to spend the entire weekend outdoors? We had heard someone in the Muggle village describe camping and how they were going to be "roughing it" all weekend, away from everyone. And Bill looked at Charlie and Charlie looked at us and we thought, "Why the hell not?"'

 _And then Percy wanted in cause he thought we were going to die of starvation without him. And instead, we nearly died of boredom._

"And then Ickle-Ronnykins didn't want to be left out, and he was actually pretty adamant about it, despite us trying to scare him with spiders and gnomes and whatever our eight and a half year old brains thought of."

 _And Ginny, who was still sulking her thumb at that point, well, she threw such a fit that Mum_ made _us take her with us on our "camping adventure"._

"And it actually….wasn't a total disaster." George that was actually the truth. Sure, the seven of them fought almost constantly, and Ginny had ended up crying and Percy got his feelings hurt and Bill and Charlie had gotten into a fistfight by Saturday afternoon, and Ron had screamed for hours when Fred and George had released a few Daddy-Long-Legs into his sleeping bag, and the twins had gotten terrible poison ivy. Yeah, it was chaotic. But never had George remembered a better weekend, just with his sister and brothers, long before Bill went off to break curses, and before Charlie left to train dragons or before Percy became a borderline traitorous, unbearable prat, before Ginny was possessed or before Ron was thrown into the absolute center of the Dark War, alone with Harry and Hermione. It was long before they met either of those two. And somehow, that was a sobering thought.

"To think," George sighed, "how we all were so young and naive and there was nothing more important than fun and just being….well, just being us."

 _Before wars and weddings and chambers of secrets and sorcerer's stones and prisoners from Azkaban and goblet's of fire and orders of phoenixes and -_

"What, you reading me half-cracked book titles?" George chuckled. "You see those in some corner end Muggle bookshop?"

 _Seemed pretty fitting. I mean, it's like real life, just written better. Give it some flair, you know. Spice it up!_

"My life doesn't need any more spice, thank you." George huffed. He felt like they were going in circles. He'd get sad, then Fred would make him laugh, then he'd read a letter and it start all over again, with slight variations as he reminisced over memories or when he tried to leave or walked around or talked to the ghostly voice of his dead brother. It seemed like it was going on forever.

 _It's not much longer now, Georgie. Maybe twenty or so to go._

"Yeah, like _that's_ not going to take forever."

 _What's important is not to stop, not to be daunted by the fact that -_

"That what?" George spat, suddenly angry. "Everybody hurts?"

 _I was going to say that we're loved by so many people who aren't even family._

"if there's one thing I learned over the years, with the people we met and Harry and Hermione…." George said softly, "is that family doesn't end with blood."

 _I suppose you're right._

"You got the looks, I got the brains, remember?" George teased and he could feel, somehow, the resounding laughter of his brother, not only in his mind, but all around him.

 _Alright, wiseass._

George chuckled as he once again reached back into the box (which still seemed too full to him, but definitely less full than it had been hours ago) and pulled out a small scroll. it took him by surprise and for a moment, all he could do was stare at the rolled up parchment in his hands, tied with black ribbon. As he slid the ribbon off and unrolled the parchment, he noted how it looked more like an essay, or a reprimand. If he hadn't already read Hermione's letter, he would have thought it was hers by the length of it alone. But as he unraveled it further, all the way to the signature, he was surprised to see his old professor's name written at the bottom.

"Professor Flitwick?"

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Weasley,_

 _Forgive me for not addressing you by your first name, dear boy. Despite the time that has passed, I still am your professor, and I will continue to remain as such, at least, formally. I would hardly expect you or your brother to call me "_ Filius". _Seems a bit over the line, don't you think? No, I am perfectly fine to be Professor Flitwick to you, and for you to remain, entirely uniquely, Mr. Weasley to me._

 _I was most aggrieved by your death, dear lad, most aggrieved. I mean, after Professor Dumbledore and Charity Burbage and Ms. Brown and Professor Lupin, as well as so many others who died before or during the war….your death came, quite literally so I've heard, out of nowhere. A flash, a bang, and then done. Your family was left with one less son and one more tragedy._

 _I'm sure you and your identical brother are both well aware of this fact, but I shall repeat it nevertheless. When the staff members were preparing for the year's incoming first years (this was way back then, right as you two were coming into the school) and we read that there were two more Weasley's, we had assumed that you two would be as charming, studious and all together docile as your three elder brothers. We thought, and I say we because I certainly was expecting the same as Professor McGonnagall and Professor Dumbledore and all the rest, the two of you would be easy to handle._

 _We were, honestly, unpleasantly surprised to find out that the two of you are …..well, a menace. No, not a menace. That would mean there would be malice in your actions, and you two certainly never, or at the very least rarely, did anything out of malice. I never saw either one of you with frowns upon your faces - up until the tragedy of Cedric Diggory, and those years following. But even during that time, you tried to brighten people's spirits, to lighten the darkness. It was something I always respected you for._

 _I am not an intimidating man. Not by a long shot. Perhaps it comes from my size - one of my ancestors was a goblin, believe it or not - and the judgement and prejudice that stems from that. Perhaps it's my passive nature. But in any case, despite my best efforts, it does become difficult for me to defy forces such as Voldemort or that wretched bitch, Dolores Umbridge, like my colleagues can. So I had to satisfy myself with small deeds, like sheltering the younger students from the likes of the Carrows, or undermining the detention summons from Dolores, or breaking her ridiculous Decrees, or fighting in the battles Hogwarts was an unfortunate host to._

 _I will come back to that in a second, but first, there is something else I'd like to say in relation._

 _Despite your constant shenanigans, something a few teachers refused to look beyond, I noticed that the two of you were rather talented, particularly with charm work. I mean, looking at the booming success of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, it's no wonder. But back when you were students, I did perceive your natural knack for Charms. Doubtless, if you had only applied yourselves a little harder in class, you would have managed to garner more than Acceptable in my classes. And how do I know this? Remember that outstanding stunt you pulled towards the middle of your seventh year? With the fireworks and the swamp in the corridor and the firework dragon, all to disrupt and enrage Umbridge? Brilliant! I wish I could have done something so spectacular in defiance to that hag! Pardon my language, but if there was anyone ever worse than Voldemort, it is her._

 _Nevertheless, I digress. What I want to say is, and I don't know if you knew this, but I kept that swamp in the hallway for weeks after you left, as a sort of tribute to you boys. I mean, the advancement of that spell-work was superb! I mean, just…..I commend you boys on that. I don't ever think I did before, so I'm doing it now._

 _Mr. Weasley, I sorely regret your death. I have no doubt you would have done wonderful things had you gotten the chance. You might have been married with children by now. You might have done so many things with your brother, for I always knew that was where your place was. Beside your twin._

 _Forgive me if writing this letter has crossed some kind of boundary. It was not my intention._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Filius Flitwick_

 _Professor of Charms at Hogwarts_

 _School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._


	44. Trelawney's Letter

**A/N: Wow, it's been a while. SO sorry I haven't updated in so long. I was dealing with a lot in my personal life, and it's been rough so I had to step away from my beloved fan fictions, but I'm hopefully going to have the time to bring it all back now. Not sure how good this chapter is, so I apologize if my writing is a bit off.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter characters, references, places, etc.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

George wasn't naive enough to believe that Professor Flitwick would be the only teacher from his years at Hogwarts to write to him about Fred's death, but he honestly hadn't expected Sybil Trelawney to extend a letter herself. He had never even taken a class with that semi-psychic wackadoodle, seeing as he and Fred hardly put any stock into Divination and chose to use their free period as a time for serious - well, maybe not serious, but it was educational, at least.

 _Very educational. Bowtruckle leaves are_ NOT _that the hard way._

"Oh yeah, that's right." George snorted. "Causes violent vomiting, hives, hallucinations -"

 _Not the best as a Weasley's product, as we decided._

"Those were a rough two days." George remembered, shuddering. They had made the rare mistake of trying this possible product at the same time. The two of them had been locked in the Infirmary for two whole days, according to Madam Pomfrey. George didn't really remember a whole lot during that time, seeing as he was tripping hard. He did remember feeling incredibly overheated, nauseous, and extremely itchy. It had been an unpleasant experience, and he and Fred agreed that Bowtruckle leaves would never, ever make an appearance in any of their products.

George looked at the envelope in his hand. It was purple, with swirling gold lines that were charmed to float and circle Fred's name on the front. It didn't take a genius to figure out who sent it. A silver crystal ball seal was in place of the Hogwarts crest on the back, the initials S.T in the center.

George peeled the seal back and slid the parchment, also enchanted purple, out of the envelope. He wondered again what Sybil Trelawney could even say to him about Fred, seeing as they had never interacted. At least, he didn't think so.

 _Only way you're gonna find out is if you read her letter, Georgie Porgy puddin' pie._

"What is it with you and that Muggle rhyme?" George groused.

 _You're just mad that there isn't anything with "Fred" that you can't taunt me with._

"Oh yeah? How about Freddy Kruger?"

 _Now that's just mean._

George chuckled to himself as he unfolded the paper. The writing on the page was written in the same gold ink as on the front, but without a Flicker Charm.

"What have you got to say, Professor Trelawney?" George mused before he began to read.

* * *

 _Fred Weasley,_

 _My dear boy. I am so sorry…how to write what I have seen a thousand times inside my head? Contrary to popular belief, I am not crazy and I do, in fact, possess The Gift. Yet you, your brother, Ms. Granger and all the students I have ever taught seem to doubt my, admittedly, eccentric ways. Everyone, in fact, doubts me. Albus was the only one…_

 _Anyways. Fred, dear child, I have a knack for predictions, and while they are never happy ones, I take what I can get. Death and sickness seems to be my forte. The Diggory boy, Dolores and the danger of the centaurs, Dumbledore and the Lightening Tower. Even Mr. Potter, though he did surprise me, that one. But what I am getting at, is that I also saw you, Fred Weasley. I saw your veil hanging over this school months before the final Battle took place. It was hazy, and I was never quite sure if it was really you or your brother. But I knew a Weasley would not make it out of the time unscathed._

* * *

George paused in his reading, already feeling the rush of heated anger filling his pale face.

"What the fuck." he whispered. "She knew you were going to die, and she didn't say anything? What the FUCK! We could have saved you! Saved US! And she said nothing and you died! What's the point of seeing the future if you can't do anything to change it?"

Fred didn't answer. All was quiet in his head, and that made George angrier. He wanted to rip the letter to shreds, send a furious Patronus to Trelawney, or a Howler and rant and rave, insult her, call her a selfish lunatic, insist she be fired and tortured in the worst of ways so she might feel and ounce of the pain George carried in his heart. And he was about to - when the next line on the page caught his eye.

* * *

 _George Weasley, I know you are reading this. That's not a psychic prediction, that's just common sense. Anything to your brother is automatically for you as well, and this letter will not be an exception._

 _I know, after what I've just written, you will be angry with me. Probably thinking, if I knew what was coming for you or your brother, why didn't I make any effort to prevent it? I will tell you._

 _First, as I said, only Albus Dumbledore ever thought I had any real credibility. Everyone else assumed he just gave me asylum and pity work at the castle because no one else in the Ministry would, and for some reason, I have trouble working my Gift with Muggles. Over the years, my death predictions haven't happened as soon as I declared them. Yes, they've all died, but never within the time frame I gave. I admit, I do have trouble with that part ever since my younger years, but it never matters that I was right, eventually. It just matters I wasn't right_ right away,

 _Secondly, there is a rule among those who have the Gift and the Sight. Never meddle with what you see. The last time I tried, two innocent people died and a baby boy was orphaned. Yes, I am speaking of the Potters. I told Dumbledore one dark night that a power would rise to defeat the Dark Lord, a baby boy born at the end of July. And because of Severus Snape, mad with dark intentions and misplaced love, the Lord thought that meant Lily and James Potter, and their newborn son, Harry. If I had never shared my prediction, if I had told less, then maybe Harry would have had a normal childhood. But then again, then maybe the world wouldn't be as it is today._

 _So you see, it's a tricky situation. Sometimes, things happen for a reason and even knowing what's coming isn't enough to stop them, but its enough to be prepared. Harry did defeat the Dark Lord, but at the cost of his family, his childhood. He had to struggle his whole life. Warning about Fred's death could have only brought the inevitable and even more pain upon you._

 _I may not be making sense, but I am trying._

 _Please try to understand. I don't expect forgiveness, or a reply. But I do expect some kind of understanding for why I kept silent._

 _Sybil Trelawney._

* * *

George folded the letter, none too gently, and threw it at the towering pile.

"I understand." George sighed. "I understand the world was against our family from the start. We never stood a chance."


	45. Madam Pomfrey's Letter

**A/N: Wow! Talk about a milestone! In case you guys haven't seen, AnonymousFan posted a wonderful review that really made me smile, and gasp!**

AnonymousFan: Do you realize that you uploaded this chapter on the 1 year anniversary of this story? I am having some FLASHBACKS. Happy 1 year anniversary, Letters to Heaven!

 **A little over a year ago, I published the first chapter of Letters to Heaven. Has it really been that long? More importantly, have I really been a part of Fanfic for another year? You guys have been so great to me, really. I can't even imagine where me or my stories would be without this site, and without the faithful readers who have inspired me to continue every day with every review, favorite and follow. Thank you, everyone.**

 **Now on with the show!**

 **Please review!**

* * *

 _George, it's no good being angry about that now._

Fred's voice was, as always, both instantly soothing and incredibly irritating. George blinked rapidly, knowing that a few tears of sadness and anger had already spilled down his cheeks. He couldn't help it; he was an angry cryer. He always had been, and it sucked, especially when he was trying to be mad at anyone other than Fred and ended up bursting into tears, startling everyone involved and ultimately embarrassing himself in the process. Except with Fred. He had never embarrassed himself where his brother was concerned.

 _Georgie, seriously. Let it go._

"Let it go?" George scoffed. "Let it GO? She knew you were going to die, and she did nothing to stop it! She could have - she _should_ have -"

 _Are you absolutely daft?_

Fred's voice held an edge of anger in it, along with something else George couldn't identify. Pity? Disbelief? He wasn't sure, but the sound of it in his head was enough to make him pause and listen.

 _George, think about the last time Trelawney tried to prevent the future from happening. Or, rather, the last time she told someone about her vision. She told Dumbledore about Harry and what happened? His parents were murdered. Now think about what would have happened if she had told anybody about seeing me die. At the time, she didn't know if it would be you or me, George. Think about the grief that would put Mum and Dad through, knowing one of their twins was going to die, never sure which one. Would you want them to choose you? Choose me? Pick a twin, a 50/50 lotto shot? Think about how cruel that is, George. How could anyone hope for one half of us? It's better that no one knew that she knew. It's better that I died._

"Don't you ever say that. Ever." George snapped, but the ferocity was gone from his bite, leaving only a new nauseous feeling. "But…I never thought about what knowing would have done to our family. I was just angry that she…"

 _I'm not saying you're not allowed to be angry. Yeah, it's a shitty thing to know, but it was a shitty piece of information in the first place. What do you do with that kind of information, knowing you can't stop it form happening anyway? Is it kinder to let people know, or to let it happen as life intended, and only prepare yourself? One could argue it's selfish either way, that there is no kindness in knowing the truth. But it's in the past now, George. Nineteen years. Wishing me to come back is kind of a mute point now, don't you think?_

"If I had only -"

 _Don't live in what ifs and if only's. It'll drive you bonkers, and you've only just stared getting better, idiot. Don't screw it all up now, or I swear Angelina will hit you over the head with my old Beaters bat just to try and knock some sense into you._

"Actually," George huffed with something that wasn't exactly a laugh, but it wasn't sad either, "it's Roxanne's bat now. She uses it to chase Fred when he pisses her off, messes with her things and all. Even can shoot the gnomes in the garden over the hedge with a decent windup."

 _She gets that from me, of course._

"Of course. She gets it all from her Uncle Fred."

 _Must be genetic, I tell you. We're gifted._

"Except Percy. You know he hates playing the sport."

 _Yeah well it must skip a generation every now and then._

And just like that, George wasn't angry anymore. It was gone - poof! Like magic, except he knew there wasn't really a magic spell that could do that, short of a Cheering Charm or maybe the Imperius Curse, or even Obliviate, to forget all the bad memories and leave him with nothing but good. No, as his anger left his system, George knew it was none of those. It was simply the magic that came with his twin brother.

 _Well, isn't that just the sweetest thing!_

And then the moment was gone, and George snorted so hard he hurt the back of his throat. Leave it to Fred to create a genuine feeling in himself and then smear it with his endless and seemingly eternal sarcastic immaturity.

 _"_ Goddamn you, Fred, you disembodied twit."

 _I have a body, moron. You just can't see it. And what a shame too. It's really quite impressive. With my muscled chest and chiseled jaw, certainly there's no mistaking us now._

"Yeah, you're over-inflated ego will certainly mark the differences. Oh, and the fact that I'm still lacking an ear." George sniffed, but it was all in good fun. He could literally feel the laughter Fred would have, and almost hear that beautiful sound, one that so closely echoed his own. Fred's laugh should be deeper now, like his own, having matured over the years, aged like he would have and would never do. Eternally twenty-one, and always sounding like a squeaky swing-set.

 _Low blow, man. Low blow. I'm offended, honestly!_

"Good." George grinned. "Been a while since I could. Think I'm due, Freddie boy."

 _Read your damn letters._

George was still grinning when he pulled the next one out of the box. Considering the last two had been their old professors, he wasn't entirely surprised to see that this one also came from Hogwarts as well, stamped with the familiar wax seal of the crest, the shimmering green ink addressing yet another parchment confession to his brother.

As he pulled the letter out, though, George began to wonder. He didn't recognize the handwriting (though that was bound to happen. There were tons of letters, and there were so many people he undoubtably knew. Was he really expected to recognize each of their styles of writing? Ridiculous - but he still felt a little guilty not knowing right away, as if he could sense who it was that needed to reach out and grieve with him) but there was kind of scent on the paper…it was almost familiar.

It was't a comforting scent, exactly. It wasn't lavenders or roses or vanilla or anything charming like that. No, this was almost unintentional, he thought, like when someone cried and left teardrops and the scent of salt behind. This smelled of bleach, maybe, and the image of _clean._ Antiseptic and peppermint and fresh air.

 _The Infirmary._

Of course. Madam Pomfrey. George smiled ruefully. She had practically been family to the Wealsey's, seeing at how many times she had tended their many, many, _many_ wounds, varying from product-testing-related injuries, Quidditch injuries, that time he and Fred had tried the Aging Potion during their sixth year, and even battle wounds. She had seen it all, and worrying over them like a nervous aunt. Though she insisted she acted that way with all her patients, George always suspected she held a soft spot for the Weasleys, though he never knew why exactly.

Perhaps he was about to find out.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Fred Weasley,_

 _Oh it's been so long. So much has happened of course, and I'm sure others will fill you in. I apologize for my frankness but I don't tend to have a lot of time these days, though I suspect that will change in the near future. In any case, I'll make my letter short and to the point._

 _You and your brother were a pain in my arse, Fred Weasley. None of your brothers ever gave me that much trouble, with perhaps the exception of Ronald, seeing as he, Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger were always up to their ears in trouble. But the two of you - double trouble has a new meaning, I'd dare say! And if you think I'm exaggerating, let me give you a brief glimpse into some of your greatest hits._

 _First year, the two of you managed to blow up a Hogwarts toilet, and in the process, you each had quite the concussion!_

 _Second year, Filch dragged both of your stupid arses out of the Forbidden Forest, where I had to quarantine the two of you for three weeks as I treated Bowtruckle nausea, Wrackspurt induced delirium, Tarantacula poison, as well as more than a dozen scrapes, bruises, a twisted ankle and a broken pinkie finger. To this day I do not understand what you were doing in the forest after curfew._

 _Third year, the two of you fought that boy Marcus Flint and some of his less amicable cronies, as retaliation for what he did to Wood during the first Quidditch game of the season. Now, I don't condone violence. Never! You boys were so beat up, it took quite a few hours before the Healing Broth could make it's way down your throats. Honestly! But I will admit, the hexes you put Flint through were rather impressive - he was quite embarrassed having to show me where that gopher had burrowed! But - still, violence should never be the answer. I am still peeved at all the nonsense you caused, and how many times I had to see you in my Infirmary._

 _Fourth year, you got hold of the Cornish Pixies that imbecile Lockhart was holding for his classes and I had to treat you for more than a dozen injuries thanks to their mischief as well as send your mother a notice explaining why both of you were covered in blue and orange spots._

 _Fifth year, what with the dementors and all that fear and depression. I gave out more chocolate than Honeydukes. From what I remember, during yet another Quidditch match, this time in the freezing rain, not only did Mr. Potter fall from his broom, but George had gotten a nasty hit to the ribs from a Bludger and you, Fred had a concussion and a sprained wrist when you tried to block it!_

 _Sixth year, I had to undo that foolish Aging Potion. What were you thinking, trying to get over Dumbledore's Age Line? And for that matter, what were you thinking trying to get into the Tournament? I bet you're glad now, seeing what Potter and Diggory and those other poor champions went through. Awful._

 _Seventh year - well, you left early. I did have to treat those scars on the back of your hands from what that absolute devil woman, Dolores, did. I swear, I'm going to read her the riot act one day._

 _But the last time I saw you, Fred Weasley, well that made me the angriest. How DARE you die. How DARE you, after everything. After all the injuries, both self inflicted with those remarkably outrageous joke products and battle scars of school and life, how dare not recover and bounce back like I always trusted you to do?_

 _Do you have any idea what it was like being the Hogwarts Matron? Working in that Infirmary day after day? Being in charge of the health and well being of every student and teacher in the school? It's a stressful job, yet for decades I did it proudly. And then you two came - and this will sound very weird coming from your old nurse - but despite the aches and pains you gave ME, the two of you made my job easier._

 _No matter what the problem either of you had when carted into my infirmary, the jokes and snarky quips you made always confirmed that you would be alright, in the end. I know that sounds corny coming from an old maid like myself, but believe me, when you've seen your fair share of severity and maladies, sometimes laughter is the best medicine._

 _I'd like to believe I treated you the same as I treat all the other students, but that's a lie. You two were my favorite students, and I have a feeling I acted more like a germaphobic aunt rather than your school nurse. But it wasn't hard to be sweet on you boys. It was hard not to like you two, seeing as despite your antics, you had hearts of pure gold. Your mother must be so proud of the men you became, and the man you are, Fred._

 _I'm sick, Mr. Weasley. I retired this year from Hogwarts (Hannah Longbottom, once Hannah Abbott has replaced me, with much prestige) and am living at home, where I plan to die with dignity. Yes, die. My time has finally come. And I'm ready. Perhaps I will see you wherever it is we go when we die._

 _It was a pleasure watching you grow through the years, and tending your various injuries, of course._

 _Poppy Pomfrey_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._


	46. Madam Rosmerta's Letter

**A/N: I really should be updating some of my other stories…but I'm in the mood for some Harry Potter so I'll continue with this story some more! Believe me, there is a lot to write, and I have this dreadful feeling that I'm running out of time. My first year at college is almost over and I am just a total mess trying to get everything sorted.**

 **Anyways, let's continue on with what you guys really came here to read! Again, general disclaimer that I do not own the Harry Potter characters and places and references, etc. All rights go to J.K Rowling.**

 **Please continue to review! Each one means the world to me and I love hearing what you have to say with feedback. Don't be shy!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It was funny, George thought to himself, how even the hint of a smell could throw you into a whirlwind of memories and emotions. It was like having his very own Pensieve, just less interactive. When he smelled the hint of antiseptic and peppermint on Madam Pomfrey's letter, he suddenly felt like he was eleven or twelve again, his brother alive and well, and both of them causing chaos in the castle. As he read her list of some of their transgressions during their schooling there, he found himself laughing, actually laughing, out loud, remembering each and every injury and mishap he and his brother had managed to get themselves into over the she hadn't even included the time where both he and Fred had been testing their first trial at Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougat at the same time - Madam Pomfrey had needed to use three Blood Replenishing Charms and two and a half Gillyweed Ales to fix them up - and then that whole escapade led to the twins being in the Hospital Wing for another three days with high fevers. What a time that was. After that, George had been almost sure Madam Pomfrey hated them, seeing as they were in the Infirmary every other week, but apparently he had been wrong. Very wrong.

 _She liked seeing us there because we never let whatever it was beat us. We always got better, and we always kept going no matter what. We let the past be in the past, and she counted on our jokes and smiles to remind her why she did what she did. Help people._

"And then we stopped smiling." George responded to Fred. "Or at least, I did."

 _Not completely. Maybe you don't notice, or maybe you've forgotten, but you haven't stopped smiling. You've just stopped looking for the refection of that smile._

It was a little wise for Fred, but George knew he wasn't trying to be some kind of condescending know-it-all from beyond the grave. He was trying to help George see something he had missed in his years of grief. George could almost see it, almost reach it within the confines of his mind, but not yet. He wasn't ready yet.

 _George, you are ready. Have been for a while._

"I've got to read the rest of these letters." George protested.

 _No. You don't have to. You can save the rest, leave them for another day, for the morning, have a fresh start with fresh eyes on this. Remember when we were developing our Fanged Frisbees? How we wanted to keep going until we got it right? We stayed up for days trying to charm the poison out of the Doxie fangs we used, but what happened instead?_

"You and I fell asleep and the stupid thing bit me when I drooled on it." George muttered. "You had to suck the wound until I wasn't seeing sound waves in color anymore."

 _We shall never speak of that to another living soul._

"Agreed." George said solemnly, but he smirked anyways. "But I'm not pushing myself to finish, Fred. I want to keep going. I want to see who else….is in there." He finished weakly, gesturing at the box on the bed.

 _It's a little shocking, isn't it? Seeing how many people we knew - I knew in life? Didn't think I had that many admirers, and even less of them are actually my friends._

"All we ever needed was each other."

 _It was more than enough for a lifetime, Georgie. But I never though how people might have looked up to you and me, how people saw us and were changed by what we did. I mean, maybe, in hindsight, I knew - knew we were helping people by making them laugh when things got bad, by looking out for Ron and Ginny and Harry and Hermione especially, and then the younger kids when they came in. Remember talking to that kid Nigel after Umbridge made us carve those words into our hands? We made him feel better. We made him feel less afraid. That was us, Georgie. We did that, but we never thought twice about it._

"Comes with being big brothers." George said. "And being little brothers, too. Bill and Charlie and Percy, they always did that for us. Always made sure we were okay and knew we were loved, in one way or another. And we had each other, which was - is a special support system. And then Ron and Ginny came along and we got the chance to be big brothers along with everyone else. We got to cheer Ron up when the Chudley Cannons would lose match after match, or after we turned his teddy bear into a spider. And Ginny - we helped her be strong, helped her learn Quidditch and how to stand up for herself. We shaped our little brother and sister, just like our big brothers shaped us. How we shaped each other."

 _Just imagine. If Mum and Dad had made one decision differently, maybe we wouldn't be here. If they hadn't wanted to keep trying until they got that baby girl, or if Ginny had been born after Bill or Charlie or Percy, would we even be here? Would we be the little brothers instead of the big brothers? Would we even be the same?_

George tried to imagine what his brother's voice was saying to him. What would life be like if he and Fred never existed? If the Weasley family only had five children, or four or three or two? The idea gave him chills and made him strangely uncomfortable.

"I'd like to think that no matter where we are, no matter who we're with or what we do, whether we are together or apart," George said slowly, "I'd like to think we'd always be the same. We're Fred and George. Gred and Forge. Always."

 _Always._

George had the feeling he had said something extremely important for himself, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and he was left with the pressing feeling of his lucid thoughts. He was giving himself a headache with so much thinking.

 _Don't strain yourself._

"Fuck off."

His brother's ghostly laughter was subdued, as if he was fading away. George pressed down a jolt of panic. He wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, not after reading all of this, not after talking to his brother again after so long. He needed Fred to stay, needed to tell him -

"Fred-"

 _I'm not going anywhere, I promise. Not yet. You've got a few more letters to read, brother mine._

George pulled another envelope and, like before, he detected a familiar scent in the parchment. But this wasn't peppermint or bleach. This was a sweeter smell mixed with something much more rank. It was sweat and greasy foods, and there was something that reminded him of cold cream. He pulled the paper closer, sniffing it harder, trying to absorb the smell deeply.

"Beer?"

 _Butterbeer to be precise. Along with many other aromas, courtesy of The Three Broomsticks._

Of course! George tore the seal off and eagerly slipped the letter out, taking in Rosmerta's curvy handwriting. He remembered her well. He and Fred, like many of the male student population, had at one time distantly fancied the fiery barmaid. Like with Madam Pomfrey, he and Fred had made many a visit to Hogsmeade to visit her, after a clean sweep of Zonko's of course, but their interactions with Madam Rosmerta had always been distant, nothing close. George wondered why she would be writing, then stopped himself. He couldn't possibly know why she'd write, but that was why she had. To tell him - them - something she had never been able to before. Funny how you can say everything in a letter you were too afraid to face to face.

* * *

 _Dear Fred Weasley,_

 _Boy, the last time I saw you, I was tossing you and your lookalike to get out of my establishment and to not come back till you was of age. Now, if you walked through my doors right now, I'd give ya whatever you wanted, on the house, for the rest of my life. Thats how much I miss the Double Trouble Twins._

 _I remember the reason I threw you two out, too. The Three Broomsticks was closed to underage wizards that day, serving only seventh years and the regulars of sorts. The two of you, I knew for a fact, were still a few months shy of being seventeen, and while normally I might not have given a rat's ass about the rules and just served you butter beer like normal, my boss and some of the higher ups from the Ministry were meeting that day and I didn't want anything of the like of you two to mess things up, especially since you weren't supposed to be there in the first place that day! That's why I came to you and told you to butt out and come back tomorrow. But the two of you were some kind of wise-asses that day. Smarting off to me, being all cocky and charming. It was enough to challenge what Sirius Black and James Potter used to pull back in the day. Yes, I knew them foolish Marauders very well, and what flirts those too! Big tippers, too, always left me a dozen or so extra Galleons._

 _Anyways, as I was saying, you, Fred Weasley, and George somehow were in the thralls of a wonderful laughing fit, and while I love to hear your brays, I had had enough. That was my bar, and I wasn't letting any one ruin my reputation, no matter how much I liked ya. Madam Rosmerta doesn't take bullshit or smarmy comments from anyone, let alone kids._

 _Do you remember what you said? Something along the lines of "Cool your curves", calling me "Lovely Lady", "Ravishing Rosmerta", "my bating bartender", and other puns and flirtations of the like. I know, many of the students always think they fancy me, and I'm always flattered. The attention is nice, though I shut down any hopes that might come to rise. But I had enough that day, so I might have overreacted just a bit by tossing you out on your arse. If I had known what was coming…_

 _You didn't come back, though I thought you would. What with the Tournament taking up everyone's time, and I saw you two had moved to the Hog's Head some days, and then the next year with Umbridge making it absolutely impossible to get any customers. And then you were gone, graduated, working your joke shop, and then Dumbledore died -_

 _I want to apologize for all that happened that year. Draco Malfoy caught me under an Imperius Curse and when I came to, to know all that I did at the hands of that boy…the cursed necklace for Katie, the poisoned mead that caught your younger brother…it sickens me._

 _And then the war hit. I fought in it, you know. Gathered up the patrons who stick around long after call, those who rent room and board upstairs, and sent word out to the Leaky Cauldron and whoever might listen to come to Hogwarts quickly to fight against Voldemort at last._

 _You died that night. You died and I never got to apologize. I never got to serve you another Butterbeer. Never got to serve you real ale, since you came of age and fulfilled my halfhearted threat. In fact, I haven't seen your brother since then also. I see all your nieces and nephews of course, all the Potters and Weasley's and Granger-Weasley's and Lupin's and Malfoy's and so on and on and on. So many kids! Wish I could have seen the ones you might have had with some lucky lady._

 _I hope this isn't strange, getting a letter from the barmaid from the village near your old school. But the thing is, I did know you, even just a little bit. You and your brother were quite memorable, and to be honest, there aren't a lot of people I talk to anymore. I currently own The Three Broomsticks, not just run bar. I'll probably sell it all in a year or two, retire, maybe try and fall in love. Do the things that make life worth living._

 _Shortly before that Harry Potter was born, James and Lily stopped in to say hello. My, Lily was just bursting - with love, happiness, and of course that baby belly! They said they wanted to see me because The Three Broomsticks was where Lily finally realized she had fallen for James, and they came there on so many dates, including their first, that it was like I had seen their whole relationship._

 _I wish I could have gotten one more visit from you, Fred Weasley. Maybe one from that lookalike of yours too? Bring back some nice memories._

 _Anyways, I'll end it here. Don't got a lot to say besides that._

 _Rosmerta_

 _Owner and Proprietor of The Three Broomsticks,_

 _Hogsmeade Village ._


	47. Dennis Creevey's Letter

**A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who has followed this story from the beginning. I know I've been kind of chaotic with updates and having so many ongoing stories at once is a lot to handle but I'm trying and I think I've done very well.**

 **But I do want to thank those who leave reviews and feedback and supportive comments. It really helps and cheers me up. There might be break in updates for a while. There are some personal problems I have to handle, but summer vacation is coming up so hopefully there'll be time for me to put things in order.**

 **Please keep reviewing!**

* * *

"Dennis Creevey?"

George gawked at the signature at the bottom of the letter. He had placed Rosmerta's aside with the others, making a strong mental note to himself that after this, after today, he would take Angelina back to Hogsmeade to visit her, talk about when he was a kid - and to thank her for the letter. He would thank all of them for the letters.

Now, he had been fully prepared to continue on with the teachers of Hogwarts (somehow this box seemed to have sectioned itself out into groups that made sense, like his family, then his friends, and now teachers) but when he opened the next letter, he found himself staring at the handwriting of someone young, and he glanced quickly down at the signature.

Dennis Creevey. George hardly remembered him. He was a student, much younger than Fred and he, but only three or four years younger than Harry, Ron and Hermione. Creevey…the name sounded familiar, but George couldn't quite place it. It had been a long time, not just the nineteen years, but the years he had been in school besides.

Slowly, very slowly, an image of the Dennis Creevey George might have remembered came into his mind's eye: small kid, looking more like an eight year old rather than eleven, with sandy blonde hair. For some reason, George remembered him sopping wet, like it had been raining - he fell in the lake! That was it! George remembered a little more now. Yeah, during the Sorting, he remembered watching this kid come squelching in after falling out of the boat and being pushed back out by the Giant Squid. Everyone thought it was hilarious. George thought harder to remember this kid. He was always smiling, and he got sorted into Gryffindor, and George imagined him running down the stairs, running to where the other Gryffindor's were waiting, and yelling excitedly for his brother -

His brother.

George remembered now. He remembered exactly who Dennis Creevey was, and he remembered his brother, Colin. Colin Creevey. Now, Colin was someone George had no trouble remembering. How could he forget the happy go-lucky Muggleborn that had practically worshipped Harry at one point in time? Kid had practically surgically attached that camera to his arm, always snapping pictures of everything the Golden Trio did for years. Colin had wanted to do everything Harry did, or would approve of, which included joining Dumbledore's Army with his little brother, Dennis. That's where George knew them best. Dumbledore's Army had become a tight knit group, and they learned to trust each other explicitly, no matter the House, age, gender, ethnicity, or wand skill. Colin and Dennis had been enthusiastic, always ready to obey Harry's every order. It had been endearing as well as annoying at the time, but George had always figured it was a passing phase. To be honest, after he and Fred left to start Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he didn't give much thought to the people they left behind. They only thought about the future, their future, and how they were going to help people learn to laugh and have fun again.

And then the Second Wizarding War happened.

George had been too distraught over his twin's body to really notice anyone else for along while, but once it had all ended, when everyone had taken stock of the casualties, he had seen Colin, lying there, so small and alone. He must have snuck back to the castle to try and fight, because he knew Harry would be and whatever Harry did was always the right thing in Colin's book.

George reckoned Dennis Creevey knew how he felt. Losing a brother to war. It was one of the greatest tragedies yet George knew it was heroic, that his brother was written in history books and plaques in the monument dedicated to those who died in the downfall, that his brother had laid his life down so that they could live in a world where they didn't have to be afraid anymore.

"I wonder what it's like to not be afraid." George whispered.

 _You're not afraid._

"I am." He said to the empty room. "I'm afraid of many things."

 _Like what?_

"I'm afraid of snakes." George said triumphantly. "Like, those really long ones that are poisonous and can swallow a man's arm."

 _Okay, so you're afraid of snakes. Anything else?_

"The dark." George's face grew serious as he thought about it. "I'm afraid of the dark. And fireworks…a little bit. I'm not really afraid of them, but I just don't like them as much as I used to. Reminds me of that night." George didn't have to explain much further. He knew Fred would understand that the blasts and explosions of their favorite thing in the world sounded so much like the screams and pops and colors of the battle.

 _Snakes, the dark, fireworks. Okay._

"And you know, I'm afraid of being like this forever." George said. "Sad and depressed and not myself. I miss who I was - who were were - when we were younger. When nothing ever could separate us."

 _Everyone's afraid of that, George. Every one has the fear of changing and losing who they are. You're not alone in that. You're not alone._

That seemed to be the general message everyone was trying to get across, George thought. That he wasn't alone. That people knew how he felt, to some extent at least. That it was time to let go. But what if he wasn't ready? What if by letting go of his grief, he was somehow letting go of Fred?

 _You're a bloody idiot, you know that? Merlin's beard, just- just open the Creevey kid's letter._

George swallowed thickly and shook out the parchment. Dennis Creevey. Who would've thunk it? George licked his lips and glanced around him, as if searching for another body in the room even though it was obvious he was alone. He was alone, no matter what anyone else said.

* * *

 _Dear Fred,_

 _My name is Dennis. Dennis Creevey. I don't know if you remember me. Probably not, but don't worry, I'm not offended. But you might remember my brother, Colin. He was a year beneath Harry and his friends, always snapping pictures, tagging after his hero. He also died in the Battle of Hogwarts nineteen years ago._

 _I didn't know you very well, Fred Weasley, nor did I know George. You were sixth years when I started school, and I was a tiny little thing, scared of everyone bigger than me - Hagrid absolutely terrified me for months. I knew that you two were practically inseparable, though, that everybody loved you, no matter who they are or what House they belonged to. Universally, they all agreed that the Weasley twins were geniuses - relatively speaking. No offense._

 _As I was saying, I never did get the chance to know either of you, despite my being sorted into Gryffindor. I was too busy trying not to get lost in that castle, and there was that unbelievable Tournament my fist year, and the year after was Professor Umbridge…sometimes, I still have nightmares. I mean, we were only kids. I was only twelve, and what she did to us…_

 _But I'm getting off track again. Look, I don't know why I'm writing this letter. I heard from a few friends of mine that Mrs. Weasley - your mother, I mean - was asking for people to write you letters, and I thought I would…but I realize now as I'm writing this that I'm probably writing to George, too, am I right? Of course. It wouldn't make sense otherwise._

 _Hi George. How are you? I hope you're well. Maybe you aren't seeing as this is the nineteenth anniversary of Fred's death, but you know what? I know exactly how you feel because my brother died at the Battle, too. He wasn't even supposed to be there, you know? He was underaged, so he was supposed to help bring the rest of us out through Hogsmeade so some of the older students could Apparate us to safe houses. But Colin - he said he didn't feel right leaving when Harry needed all the help he could get. So he passed me off - I was fourteen at the time, and Colin was sixteen - to another student and ran back to the castle…I never even said a proper goodbye to him. I never saw him alive again._

 _There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about my big brother. I think about how we grew up, in a perfect little normal Muggle neighborhood, and how when Colin got his letter, how excited I was because there was a chance I'd be special too. And Colin took me to Diagon Alley with him, and that was when we really knew - magic was real and it was a part of our lives. And I remember how our parents let us buy some extra books about wizarding history so we could learn all about this new world, and how Colin would read to me, and we read about this boy. Harry Potter. How he defeated the greatest dark wizard as a baby, how he was currently living with Muggles, though his parents had been wizards, and that they had died when he was young. I was in awe, and so was Colin. We didn't know if having Muggle parents was a big deal or not, but Harry Potter had Muggle relatives, and for us, that was just as good as a confirmation that heritage didn't matter. It was about the actions we make as we move forward._

 _Harry Potter quickly became my hero, and Colin's. So our parents bought him a wizard camera so he could send back photos of Hogwarts and everything he saw, so I wouldn't feel left out. Photography had always been Colin's hobby. He loved the idea of capturing something forever in the palm of your hand. A memory on paper. And when we learned that wizard photos actually moved - my head exploded, to say the least._

 _I remember when I finally came to Hogwarts, how everything was just so - so magical! I was so excited, I fell in the Great Lake on my way over to the castle, and something beneath me pushed me back out. Turns out, it was the Giant Squid! My kids still get a kick out of that story. I remember being sorted, coming to sit by my big brother, and being so excited to finally be doing something with him. Colin and me, we were never really close. But being at school together, and being at magic school no less, actually brought us closer. Colin loved being able to teach me things, loved showing me the ropes. He would have made a good Head Boy._

 _George, I know how you feel. I know the feeling of losing someone you love deeply in war. Colin died just like Fred. The difference was, Fred knew what he was getting into. Colin had no idea. He was blindsided by someone's randomly cast curse. At least, that's what the nurse said. She said he was hit from behind, that there were traces of several spells on his body, some of them occurring after he had died, seeing as his body had just been in the way at some time. In the way. I don't know if he ever got the chance to fight. He might have just run back into the fight only to die before he got the chance._

 _I just celebrated my thirty second birthday. Can you believe that? I'm thirty two and my brother never lived past sixteen. It doesn't seem fair. But that's how life played out, I guess._

 _I married a nice Muggle girl from my home. Her name's Matilda Sweet, and she's a wonderful girl. And we have five kids, will you believe it? Big family, but it's actually pretty nice. I work at St. Mungo's as a Healer, which actually pays well, and Matilda is a Muggle doctor, which also pays some, so we have a decent income, though we often have to trade in her Muggle currency to Gringotts for the exchange._

 _Anyways, five kids. Oldest is a girl, Samantha Eloise. She's a bright witch, turning fifteen this year. Then there's Daisy Sunshine (her mother insisted), turning thirteen. Colin Avery, my only son, named after my brother, and turning eleven. Gertrude Elizabeth, turning ten, and finally, our youngest, Mabel Holly. Now, Mabel is only eight, but we have a feeling she might not have any magical abilities. She might be a Squib. And while we have three more years before anything is officially said, it's something Matilda and I are having a hard time coming to terms with, seeing as the rest of our children are going through or preparing for schooling at Hogwarts, and Mabel can't wait to go too. What if she can't? What if, because of the Muggle blood in her, she lost the chance to be a witch before she was even born? I mean I was Muggle born, and Matilda is a Muggle. Technically, our children should be half-blood, but…_

 _I shouldn't be pouring this all into a letter. You don't care about any of this. Anyways, what's the use of worrying? If it happens, it happens. We'll get through it all together as a family, because that's what families do._

 _Fred? Can I ask you something? If Colin is there with you, can you make sure he's doing alright? And tell him…tell him I miss him? That I loved him, always? He was my big brother, and Harry Potter or no Harry Potter, Colin was my hero. The only one that mattered to me, at least._

 _Thank you._

 _Here's to you, Fred Weasley. One of the greats._

 _Dennis Creevey._

* * *

"One of the greats." George read, trailing off as the letter finished. "Wow. Little Dennis Creevey, a father. And five kids."

 _People grow and change in nineteen years, George. It's startling, but natural. You'll miss it if you're not watching. One day, Roxanne and Fred Jr. will be all grown up and having kids of their own and you'll be a grandpa and life will go on._

"Wow." George sat back. "I…I've never really thought about that before. It seems so unreal to think about that, so far into the future."

 _Just like it seems so impossible that it's been nineteen years since I've been gone, but it's the truth. Ad you've lived your life, George. Some days have been really good. Days like today hit, and it gets bad, but thats natural. The trick is learning to leave these bad days a little further in the past._

George let those words wash over him, like a warm ocean wave. They were large, but soothing, almost, which surprised him. Were these letters really helping him grieve, or rather, let go of his grief? Or was it Fred's voice in his head? George didn't know…and he wasn't sure he wanted to.


	48. Kingsley Shacklebolt's Letter

**A/N: Another burst of inspiration, another chapter update! There might be a long break before I update any more chapters. Finals are coming up and I'm having daily stress attacks now, so I'm not really in a place to be writing creatively right now. But here's this chapter at least to tide everyone over while I get myself sorted out.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter characters, places, etc.**

 **Please review. I really do read each and every one and I love hearing your thoughts on my writing. So please keep them coming!**

* * *

The sun had officially set. George looked out the window, now completely dark except for the small pale lanterns that were hung in the trees around the garden, though those were hardly enough to make shadows, so the darkness remained. George wondered when the lanterns had been hung - while he had been up here? Or days before, when he had been preoccupied? And he wondered whether they were for summer decorations, or in memory of the Battle, or for Victoire's birthday or maybe an early celebration for Harry…? Or maybe someone thought they'd just look pretty. Like fireflies or fireworks…

George swallowed against the lump in his throat. He noticed that it wasn't as big as it used to be - it used to make him choke and gag and cry until he couldn't swallow anymore but had to spit it all out in the bushes. Now, he coughed a little, but the lump in his throat shrank back and let him breathe.

He wandered aimlessly around the small room for a few moments, stretching his legs, which were numb from being sat on for the last several hours. A few times he passed that intimidating box, and every now and then he'd peek into it, just to see the last twenty or so letters remaining. That was it. Twenty or so letters and it would be all over. It should be a relief…except George was dreading it. He wasn't scared - he would never again admit to being scared - but those letters had been surprisingly therapeutic, and with Fred's running commentary in his head, he could feel himself getting the closure he never had nineteen years ago. Actually, it wasn't nineteen years ago anymore was it? It was twenty. Twenty years ago. His brother dead and gone for twenty years.

There was something about the solidity of that number "twenty" that shook George, just a little bit. Sighing, he headed back towards his bed, running his fingers along the wall, the desk as he passed, the bookcase filled with anything and everything that wasn't a book (seriously - their mum had been trying to encourage them to be more studious like Bill or Charlie or Percy, but all that shelf was ever used for was storing ingredients for their products and the occasional framed detention letter). He ran his hand over the comforter of his bed, remembering the nights when they were kids where they'd build forts and castles with their pillows and blankets and shoot sparks at anyone who dared enter the "Twin City" as they called their room. Occasionally, Bill or Charlie or their Dad would join in and play with them. Percy was always doing something "better" and their mother either scolded them for making too much noise and waking Ron or Ginny, or laughed and warned them not to set the carpet on fire.

He fell back on his bed with a loud, elongated sigh, but his brother's voice didn't make an appearance. He groaned again, but he heard nothing in his head. Maybe Fred had left already…but hadn't he said he wasn't going anywhere? He did, and George knew better than anyone that his twin never broke his word.

"Any time now." George muttered into the empty room. 'Hello? Where's the witty commentary? The sassy, childish remarks that are trademark to a Weasley twin? The mystical voice reverberating in my head? Brother? Hello?"

There was still no reply and George was starting to feel a little bit foolish, and a whole lot insane. Except he wasn't…was he? No. He wasn't crazy. There might not be a whole of evidence to suggest otherwise, but George knew he wasn't crazy. He had a wife and kids and a huge, fucking wonderful family that was there for him, and had always been there for him since before he could remember. A crazy person wouldn't continue to hold onto something so…so beneficial and necessary and dysfunctionally wholesome, would they? George didn't think so, therefore he wasn't crazy.

 _That is the weakest argument for being sane I have ever heard._

George nearly jumped in surprise when his brother's voice suddenly popped into his head. It was softer than it had been before, like the volume was somehow turned down, but he was still there. Still here, so a wide grin spread over his face.

 _Read the next damn letter ,George and stop being so sentimental over me. Jeez. It's like you've never heard me speak before._

"In a way, I haven't. Twenty years, and you forget things." George cracked.

 _Yeah, but I've been talking for hours, and when I go and take a little break and check up on things, you get all needy and pouty on me for not responding right away. Come on, Georgie._

George gave a huff of laughter as he went for the next letter. It was somehow easier to move on now that his brother's voice was back in his mind, real and alive though his physical body wasn't any longer. The envelope he pulled out was rough - although it didn't really look any different than the others. George turned it over and saw with surprise that it wasn't the Hogwarts seal that covered the flap, but a Ministry one. He wondered who at the Ministry would be writing to him, and writing to him about Fred, no less. Anyone he could think of either no longer worked there, or he already had read their letters, now buried somewhere in the teetering pile next to him. So who was he forgetting?

* * *

 _Mr. Fred Weasley,_

 _I have not spoken to you or your family in several years. My apologies. It was never my intention to lose contact, but sometimes that happens in life. I hope you remember me, though I doubt you would ever forget your old acquaintance Kingsley Shacklebolt._

 _Though you may not know it, I was much involved with the wars over the years far before we ever met. I worked for Minister Cornelius Fudge, as one of his top Aurors, during the time of Voldemort's return, thought I was always Dumbledore's man and an Order Member through and through. I have found that, with the right tone and implications, I can convince anyone of my trustworthiness, and while some might see that as a sign of my untrustworthiness, I have used my persuasive powers for the greater good of our future._

 _Did I or your brother or sister ever tell you of the battle inside the Ministry of Magic all those years ago? Harry was tricked into thinking Sirius had been kidnapped and taken inside the Prophecy Room of the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry and had run off there with several of you young ones, including your sister, Ginny, your brother, Ronald, and Hermione and that Lovegood girl. I believe the Longbottom boy had been there as well. Anyways, somehow, he managed to relay to Severus that Sirius was supposedly in trouble, so we know Harry was too, and many of us Order members went to his aid. I was there as well, and I was the one who contacted Fudge for support. It was then and there that we got him and the rest of the Wizarding World to see that Harry was our only chance to win this war, and that Dumbledore was a force to be reckoned with. It was the start of changing a very powerful tide._

 _I tell you this, in part and with unfortunately little detail, because I realize we knew little of each other. You knew me as a part of the Order of the Phoenix, and as Royal, a participant of your brave Potterwatch broadcasts. I was there, a steadfast rock, always, to soothe the panic and smooth the rough edges of anxiety and doubt amongst friends and allies. At least, that's what Dumbledore always said. Strange man, he was, but he had flair. Knew more about what was coming than any of us, and constantly one step ahead._

 _I became the Minister of Magic after the Battle of Hogwarts. I thought that would interest you, seeing as, along with your brother, nobody opposed authority quite like you. I thought you'd like to know that I was actually working to make a noticeable and positive change in our somewhat outdated government. And with the help of Harry, your brother Ronald, and Miss Hermione, that change happened. We effectively diminished pure blood superiority thinking in the Ministry as well as corrupt officers and any remaining Dark War supporters. While we can never fully eradicate these beliefs and actions, the steps we took have been crucial in the positive change for all our lives, both now and in the future._

 _I will be retiring soon. Yes, I know. I am old, and I don't need you making cracks about that. But I am retiring, and most likely, I will be happily passing the position of Minister off to Hermione Granger-Weasley. She's an exceptional witch and woman, and Ronald is certainly a lucky man to have claimed her as his wife. Not to mention his ego will never be too inflated, not with her around to pop that balloon before it floats to far from the ground. On the other hand, I'm sure his crude wit and more emotional nature will help calm her…tendency to be overexcited and …well, overwhelmed in her work._

 _I am going to finish this letter. Though I could say more, a lot more, for I have lived a full life with many lessons, I have found it sometimes best to keep things short and filled with only the most necessary of thoughts._

 _So lastly, Fred Weasley, I would like to say that I am truly sorry for the loss of your life twenty years ago, but I am also immensely proud of the sacrifice you made. Some people don't realize this, but that's because they look at the battle and see children who were forced to fight for their lives. And some where. Some children who couldn't make it out had to grow up in minutes and fight and kill to save themselves and others. But some people, like you and your family, chose to stay. You chose to risk your life for the chance to win and change the fate of our existence. And in the end, you gave your life for that chance. That was a sacrifice you shouldn't have been asked to make, and in my eyes and the eyes of many others, you are a hero. You are a hero, Fred Weasley, and may the world never forget that._

 _Your friend and ally,_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt_

 _Minister of Magic_


	49. Professor Sprout's Letter

**A/N: And summer break has arrived! Which means I can update as much as I possibly can on all my stories! I'll try and do a lot, since I'll be away the entire month of July.**

 **So, let the timer start now as I update another chapter of Letters To Heaven. It's pretty exciting. I'd say there's about 14 more chapters before the end, so please bear with me.**

 **Another disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything of the like. Just this story is mine.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

Sometimes, it seemed like George was just a side character in someone else's story. He had felt like that a lot, growing up. At first, it had been because they were the youngest in the family with Bill and Charlie and Percy getting a lot of the attention cause they were older. And then when Ron and Ginny had been born, he and Fred had been bumped to the lowly "middle child" status, which was a lot worse than youngest because the middle children always end up squished to one side or another in pictures, meals, games, because the oldest children have the "right" and the youngest children get to be "spoiled". So sometimes at home, George and Fred hadn't really felt like the main characters unless they were goofing off.

And then at school, it was the same. At least, while Charlie was there. Then came Harry and Ron, and it seemed like everything they did was second class compared to Harry Potter. They were side characters to his story. Never the main characters. No story ever told from his point of view, or Fred's.

Even now, George wondered if this was a main story, if someone out there would know of everything he's gone through, here in this room tonight. If it would ever be a story - if Fred would ever be a story, the hero of a war story told to children, instead of Harry and Ron and Hermione. If Fred would ever be the main character…

 _You're getting to be waayy too melodramatic in your old age, you know that?_

"Yeah, maybe." George said distractedly.

 _George….stop overthinking._

"You ever wonder if we're side characters in our own lives?"

 _Are you fucking with me right now?_

"No, I'm serious!" George protested. "Doesn't it sometimes feel like we aren't the stars of our own lives? Like everyone else seems to have the spotlight but never us?"

 _George, I swear, you've gotten dumber these last twenty years without me to fill in the blanks._

"What? Come on!"

 _No, seriously, mate. Side characters in our own lives? Everybody feels like that. Like there are times when they can't seem to find anyones attention? Don't you know people are always watching? And half the time, life characters end up stealing the show! Feel like even if we were side characters, we'd be pretty darn amazing. Probably the best side characters in the whole darn thing! But we're not, you know why? Cause someone's always watching us, which makes us the star of someone's story. Someone's watching us, dreaming of what we do, what we could do, and creating their own tales of us._

"Sounds a little creepy when you put it like that." George said, but he was smiling.

 _You say creepy, I say flattering. Either way, it's attention, and you know what I say about that._

"There's no such thing as bad attention." George recited. "Though I believe the actual saying is 'No such thing as bad press', but I get what you're saying."

 _Good. Read the next letter before I materialize and drop kick your ass for being the dumber twin…again! Seriously. Guess we know who got the brains -_

"And who got the looks?" George snorted. "That's saying a lot, seeing as I only have one ear -"

 _Yeah, and I'm dead._

"Dude low blow."

 _We look exactly alike! I was going to say brawn!_

"We're twigs and you know it. Ron has more muscle definition than we do. It's pathetic."

 _Ronnie also has gained fifty pounds in the last two decades while you still barely find the energy to eat some days. Gotta get on that, Georgie boy._

"Now you sound like Angie." George smirked.

 _She always was brilliant._

"So's your namesake. And Roxanne - she's going to be Minister one day, she tells us."

 _Make her Auntie Hermione proud, she will. And Fred Jr. What's he want to be?_

George swallowed, holding back tears. They were happy ones, though. He could feel it.

"Well, he wants to be just like his Uncle Fred."

There was silence for a few minutes. George could almost feel the shock and disbelief from his brother's spirit.

 _He…but he's never even met me! He doesn't know anything about me at all. How can he want to be like me?_

"I wouldn't say he knows nothing about you, Fred." George amended. "He's heard stories all his life about you. All your nieces and nephews have. Fred Weasley, the hero, who died so we all could live. Harry's told a dozen stories, and so have Bill and Charlie and Ginny, and Mum and Dad have stories even I've never heard before. So he knows you, Fred. He's my son. And he wants to be someone I admire, and there's no one I admire more than my own twin brother."

 _Well…_

Fred said no more than that, but George smiled, almost to himself. He still could catch his brother off his guard, even after all this time. But he was almost done…he had one, two, three…fourteen more letters and he'd have read them all. He wondered who was left in the Wizarding World that knew Fred and him. Maybe he had been wrong about being side characters after all.

The next letter did have the Hogwarts wax seal on the back, so he knew it was from another Professor, but as he looked at the signature at the bottom, he realized it wasn't a current teacher, but one from his past.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Weasley, and likely Mr. Weasley, who I don't doubt will also be reading this letter,_

 _It's been quite a while, boys. I haven't laid eyes on you since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, and even before then it had been few years, seeing as you made quite an exit your last year._

 _That Battle was a hard thing won, dear boys. We did our best, we did. Everyone was so brave to fight. I tried to - I used my precious Devil's Snare and tossed it over the side of the staircases on the heads of those - those awful people. Pretty clever, huh? Let loose some younger Mandrakes on them, too, though some allies might have gotten a bit of that blast, but it was with good intentions._

 _I know there was more I could have done, but even in hindsight, I remain clueless. I believe that things had to have played out like they did, no other way. I know that's not what either of you'd want me to say, but it's what I believe._

 _There's nothing I'd wish for more than to bring all those who died back again. You, Fred, and Remus Lupin, and that Nymphandora Tonks. I remember teaching that girl. What a spitfire she was! And a mother, taken too soon from her little one. And Lavender Brown, too. I heard she died from wounds sustained by a werewolf, Fenrir Greyback. So much loss, it seems like a vine suffocating a healthy tree, choking it until it grey's and withers to brittle ash._

 _But time and care can help even a plant once thought dead back to breathing again. All it takes is someone to snip and pull away what's bringing it down and giving it room to fight on its own. Mr. Weasley, erm, George, that is, I hope you get my not-so subtle metaphor here. I know they say time heals all wounds, but more likely, it will scar. But to ensure it won't get infected, it needs care. You can't do it on your own, but more than likely, you'll screw it all up. Believe me, I learned that the hard way when I was a young Herbology student._

 _You have a lovely family, big and vibrant and healthy. They're there for you, lad. Use them. Let them heal you. Let them pull away the vines that are choking you and help you breathe again. I won't pretend and say that it's what your brother would want, but I can't see that charming boy wishing harm on his lookalike. Oh, George. The two of you had eyes for only each other in all the years I knew you, whether it was for problems you had or for pranks you were planning, or girls you were asking out (teachers hear everything, lad, so yes I know about the double date with Sarah Westmind and Laura Thomas; try Muffliato next time you're having a private conversation in a crowded room). Fred adored you, dearie. He adored his twin. The times I got to see your whole family, usually at those Quidditch matches, I could see that they all adored the two of you. Bill and Charlie couldn't be prouder of their Beater brothers, and even Percy, bless his heart, would cheer for the both of you in the stands. And your little brother and sister…well, I myself have a younger sibling, and I know that they can sometimes disagree with you, but they also look up to you for everything. It's how they become who they are, and from where I'm standing, you two were the best big brothers._

 _Teachers….we see everything, dearie, for better or worse._

 _Now, not only do you have a wildly enthusiastic family, but so many friends! Both of you. Molly told me what she was planning for this letter, so I doubt mine is the first one you've read, but surely no matter what number mine is on that list, you've begun to understand how many people still love and miss you. Both of you. Fred, we miss you in every way possible. The teachers still talk about you. Students talk about the legendary Weasley brothers, who turned the corridor into a swap and tormented former Professor Umbridge and threw fireworks in the Great Hall as they escaped Hogwarts on brooms of lightening…or so the story goes. You are far from forgotten here, lad, and I have a feeling the same goes for everywhere else you've ever touched with your sticky fingers and cheeky grin._

 _And George….you're missed too, but in a different way. Would it kill you to visit Hogwarts every once in a while? Come to a Quidditch game and sit with your kids and watch your nieces and nephews, come to The Three Broomsticks or The Hog's Head and have pint or two. Your face is missed among those of us who remain here and remember it. I'm sure Hagrid would love to see you again. I would too, before I retire._

 _Yes, retire. I've been mentoring Neville Longbottom for years now, and lately, he's been taking over my classes while I get some affairs in order. And now, finally, I can leave Hogwarts in peace._

 _Please excuse me if this letter was somehow inappropriate or seemingly out of character. I know you (either of you) have never had a personal conversation outside the Herbology greenhouses. And I saw just how special the two of you are. While you might put on those smirks and cheeky grins and laugh and have this whole facade for the world to see, when it's just the two of you, or the few friends you take into your inner circle, I can tell there's a whole other side to the both of you, one that isn't as visible, but takes some digging to see. That, and, despite what most think, you're actually fairly studious and excellent students. Don't go taking that to your head, mind you, you still have nothing on your older brothers or even that Miss Hermione Granger-Weasley. But still….it was a pleasure to have taught you._

 _Now I've rambled long enough. I fare thee well, Fred and George Weasley._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Pomona Sprout_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

* * *

George chuckled to himself as he folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope, tossing it on the teetering pile beside him. Professor Sprout. He remembered her - a short statured, stout woman who had always reminded him of his own mother, from her knit sweaters to her Kindly demeanor to her stern "no nonsense" attitude in the greenhouses. It was why he had liked her so much. She had always been one of his favorite Professors, right next to McGonagall and Flitwick. But he had never know she had felt almost the same about him, that she had admired him and his brother, had seen through the well constructed clown-mask they both wore almost always. Or used to. That was long gone.

 _Not forever._

Fred's voice was a whisper in his one remaining ear, and while he felt the lump in his throat grow, but he pushed it back down with surprising ease. Maybe….maybe….

"Not forever." George repeated. "Not forever."

Things would be alright in the end.


	50. McGonagall's Letter

**A/N: Another update for you guys! Sorry it's been so long. I'll try and be better, I swear. I want to finish this story before the summer, so fingers crossed I manage to get my creative juices flowing and have some inspiration for these last thirteen chapters. There's a HP marathon coming up, so that oughta do the trick!**

 **Thanks to all the amazing reviews! Please keep them coming!**

 **PS: Who's excited for the new Fantastic Beasts movie in November?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

With all the past teachers writing to him, George shouldn't have been surprised to see his old Head of House (now the presiding Headmistress of Hogwarts) in the pile of letters as well. But he was. Perhaps it was because he had never really seen Minerva McGonagall as the sentimental type, and when she was, when there was a brief glimpse of emotion, it was always brief and harsh before being wrapped up again in her stern kindness. That's what it was. Stern kindness. She took no guff from anyone, showed no absolute favoritism to any one student (besides her Gryffindors, and of course, Hermione Granger had to be her favorite), but she was also fair to everyone. Knew the rules and knew when they were being bent for a good cause rather than reckless mayhem. Plus, she was one of the few teachers tough enough to stand up fearlessly against Umbridge and Voldemort when the Dark times came around. During the Battle, George remembered hearing how she had taken six Stunning spells to the chest, and still, she had gotten up not twenty minutes later and continued fighting as if nothing happened.

 _That woman is an absolute badass._

Fred's use of the more Muggle used term was odd, but yet, somehow quite fitting to the old Transfiguration teacher.

 _Seriously. I put her right up there with Mum, Hermione and Ginny for "Complete Badass Witches Who Scare the Bejeezus Out Of Me"._

"In a good way of course." George laughed, but he had to admit his brother was right. Molly Weasley dotted on all her children, but she was force not to be reckoned with when she was angry, which was often with six boys to raise. Even their father had a hard time to clam her when she got going, and she knew how to fight. She had been in the original Order, for Merlin's sake! She killed Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle of Hogwarts! What a claim to fame!

And Hermione, too. Everyone had always known she was a talented witch, and her fighting skills were excellent, as well. And when she was pissed - well, Ron had told them about the time she had set a flock of birds on him just because of Lavender. That, and he had been a bit of an ass to her at the time. As George's Great Aunt Muriel once said, "Always be wary of a witch with a spell up each sleeve, and a few in between. She won't even have to blink and you'll be wondering where your head is at. Literally!". Seems like she was talking about Hermione jean Granger-Weasley.

And Ginny, too. George often wondered if growing up with six older brothers had had some effect in her steel backbone and fierce nature. Seriously, what with a curse breaker, a dragon tamer, a Ministry genius, prankster entrepreneurs, and a hero of the Dark War, she had some big shoes to fill, even before half that stuff was true. But there she was, master of the Bat-Bogey Hex and many more, star Quidditch player and had a mean right hook when she was mighty pissed. Ginny didn't take any BS from anybody. She didn't come crying to them when some idiot boy broke her heart. She made him cry instead by kicking him between the posts and storming off without a second look. Their little sister was made of an iron will and a heart of gold. And most times, she terrified them all with one of her patented "Molly Weasley" glares. She even got Bill to do things for her. It was impressive, to say the least.

 _Our little sister is quite the role model, ain't she? Hermione, too. And Mum…_

"Strong women, all around." George agreed. "And Minnie McGonnagall. Fred, she has them all beat, though. No one scares a student into behaving like her."

 _Even us, now and then._

"Yeah…" George said. "But I always got the feeling she never tried all that hard with us. Like she found us…amusing."

 _Amusing? We drove her mad!_

"That's what we thought about the other teachers, too, but Professor Sprout and Flitwick just admitted in their letters that they…well, they loved our pranks! Flitwick kept the swamp we made in the corridor, and Sprout said she would watch us in fascination. We didn't drive them completely mad."

 _So what? We entertained them? Good. Teaching must be boring, especially with rowdy students who don't listen and would rather be testing Nosebleed Nougat on the willing beta testers and calculating prices to haggle at Zonko's._

"Shuddit, you git." George grinned. "Seriously, what could our old Head of House even want to say after all these years? That she regretted not giving us more detentions? That she found us to be geniuses far ahead of our time?"

 _Yeah, because if Minnie's known for anything, it's her exuberance for complimenting._

"Alright, alright." He ripped the envelope open, not bothering to be particularly gentle, too eager to see what was inside, what she would have written. He unfolded the letter, which wasn't particularly long, but the looks of it, but it wasn't exactly short, either. About half a page long. "Let's find out for ourselves, shall we?"

 _Ah, the motto of the Weasleys._

* * *

 _Mr. Weasley (and, undoubtably, Mr. Weasley),_

 _I write to you now, nearly twenty odd years since you left Hogwarts, to give my condolences. This is the first time I have ever done so in my time as a Professor and as Headmistress I have written directly to a student, present or former, that was not about reprimands, punishments, reminders of rules and regulations and as such. I hope you know that a letter like this from me is more than rare. It is unheard of._

 _I do not often dabble in things like sentiments. It comes with being the only surviving member of my family, I suppose. My mother and father passed away long before you came to Hogwarts, and as I was an only child, as were my parents, I was left on my own to being my life and career as a prominent witch in Transfiguration. Headmaster Dippet (the headmaster of Hogwarts before Professor Dumbledore) recruited me about twenty or so years before…well, before many things happened. And I say this only to make a necessary comparison._

 _James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. Those boys, the Marauders as they called each other, were the head troublemakers in their time. Mainly, it was Potter and Black, the two inseparable from each other at the best of times, while Remus of course went on to be a Prefect and a near perfect student despite his disability, and Peter was, sadly, unremarkable. Oh he was a funny boy, very polite, decent student, but not quite the social butterfly outside his circle of friends. Not like James and Sirius. You two remind me of them - and not just me, but the rest of the staff as well. At least, those who have been here long enough to remember those rascals._

 _They, too, had a strange dynamic similar to yours. It was intriguing to study. Perhaps that's why I was always lenient with punishments when I could, and it wasn't always because they were from my chosen House. James was a fool, yes, and made an arse of himself daily to win the attention (and heart) of one Miss Lily Evans. But he was also a thoughtful, intelligent, gentle boy who cared about those around him, especially Sirius. They were like brothers. I would have thought they were brothers had I not known better. Two peas in a pod, they were. Sirius was a troubled boy, very troubled. I knew his mother, and his cousins, Narcissa, Bellatrix and Andromedra. With the exception of Andromedra, I never trusted the looks of that family. Maybe it was because I never trusted Slytherins in general, not after Tom. Not after what he created. But Sirius Black was a Gryffindor, a fact that might have raised problems at home. I once overheard the two talking while I was monitoring their joint detention, and James mentioned how his mum had Sirius's room all set up. I am not dumb, Mr. Weasley. I knew what he implied. And I was taken aback at how gentle, how thoughtful that indignant, sometimes idiotic fool could be._

 _I knew there was more than meets the eye with those four. Yes, they snuck out plenty of times and broke more school rules than could be generally possible in seven years. But I know what they did for Remus. They not-so-subtly came to me with questions about Animagi and the transformation process, all of which I answered in the hypothetical. I knew it was dangerous, but I knew they were smart. And maybe I knew what it would mean for Remus, to have his friends with him in his darkest hours._

 _I tell you this because I wish you to understand what I saw when you, George Weasley, walked through the front doors of Hogwarts with your literal twin, you, Fred Weasley, for the first time. I tell you because I want to tell you of the first time in my life I ever shed a tear in pain._

 _It was the day I heard of James and Lily's death, and how everyone thought Sirius Black was the reason, that he betrayed them, and little Harry Potter was now an orphan. That day, I shed one single tear for the young boys I thought were soulmates for friends. Brothers, with the deepest bond of friendship and love I had ever seen. And Lily, that darling girl. The fiery spirit…gone. Dead. Murdered. It didn't seem possible. And when Harry came to school, how he looked and acted so much like James and Lily and Remus and Sirius, who were practically surrogate fathers instead of uncles to that boy, who remembered nothing. I knew it was not fair that I should know so much about his parents when he had no memories at all. That everyone else would have had relationships with them, memories and stories about them and all he had were people telling him he was the spitting image of a father he only knew died to save him, and how his eyes were the mother's who gave him all her love as a protection against all evil. That he was sometimes as wild as the godfather who he never got to know more than a year, and as wise as the uncle who overcame so much only to lose in the last stretch of his young life. And I tell you this so you will understand the second time I shed a tear, and the third._

 _Fred and George Weasley. Never, since James Potter and Sirius Black, have two such boys infuriated and security entertained me. Ridiculous, the amount of detentions and lost points the two of you accumulated. It probably should have been a school record, if we had known….you two could have given Mr. Potter and Mr. Black a run for their money in their days. In fact, if life had turned out differently, I'm sure a letter or two would have been sent to them to tell about your now legendary pranks and hijinks. Older students still tell the younger ones about the swamp, the fireworks. Your nieces and nephews add fuel to the fire, telling what they've been told from their mothers and fathers, and most of the stories are running wild with falsehoods, but no one stops them. Sometimes even the teachers add a story or two of their own, just so they can talk about the war hero, Fred Weasley._

 _Your death was the second time I shed a tear. It wasn't right away. It wasn't even after things died down. It was writing this letter, now. Now, I know I seem like a cold hearted, stern wall against all things sentimental and emotional. I know I rarely do things with blatant kindness, with outright emotion. It's the way that I am. Delicate matters I handle promptly and in the most efficient manner, but when it comes to Death…I find it better to say nothing and let the silence work it's thoughtful magic._

 _The death of a student who has effected such change, in the school and in the people around him or her, is a tragic thing. Lavender Brown, such an optimistic and sweet, if often misguided, girl. Colin Creevey, so eager to learn. Cedric Diggory, who was brave and smart and as true as any Hufflepuff and any student should be. And you, Fred Weasley. You and your brother brought light to the children when everything was dark. You brightened a room with your smiles, added a sense of youthfulness to anyone who encountered you. You filled the halls with laughter, but you were also so brave. Half of your detentions were for defending younger students against bullying Slytherins, who were never caught and yet you were the ones persecuted for hexing their eyebrows into tentacles and force feeding them Ton-Tongue Toffee, or whatever it was. You reminded me of James and Sirius, sure, but there is a quality about the two of you all your own, even with the mischief and misdeeds._

 _Plus, somehow, the two of you always managed to wrangle Peeves under control every now and then, a feat only ever managed by the Bloody Baron himself._

 _This turned out to be a much longer letter than anticipated, but I am not completely done yet. George, this next section is directed to you. First, you must be wondering why this letter is much longer than it looks. The answer is simple, and you would have known it had you finished your last year at Hogwarts. A simple Elongating Charm, which allows the appearance of shorter writing but instead, allows the reader to read short passages at a time before changing the words to the next paragraph, erasing the ones already read. Clever, hm? Invented it myself during some of my down time between transitioning from Transfiguration to Headmistress._

 _Anyways, George. I know this is not the first letter you will read, and I doubt mine is the last. But I hope my words can make a lasting impact on you, though they never have before, so why hope. You never listened to my numerous reprimands, only taking them as challenges. So perhaps take this as a challenge you have no choice but to accept._

 _Live your life with fervor, George Weasley. You have a living, breathing family right there beside you, and while you might feel as though you are missing a vital piece, I assure you, you're not. Fred was vital, yes, but you are still alive. Still breathing, even now, twenty years down the line, with a wife and children and plentiful business. You have things worth living for, and while you have the right to your grief and sadness, you aren't the only one. You have never been the only one, and now I think it's time to put it a little further in your past and begin to take steps forward. Fred will be waiting for you in the end, when it's your turn. And, really, do you honestly believe he isn't with you now? Inseparable in life, I doubt it would end in death._

 _I hope you are well, and continue to be so. Me? I'm coming up on my birthday. No, I refuse to tell my age, but I will tell you a wish of mine. Come to Hogwarts and be a guest speaker for History of Magic classes. Visit me and those of us still wandering the halls. Visit your nieces and nephews and watch a Quidditch match or two. Take a look at Hogsmeade and the branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes that since replaced Zonko's joke shop._

 _Suppose I end here. Seems long enough._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_


	51. Aberforth Dumbledore's Letter

**A/N: Thanks for the sweet reviews, everyone. Keep them coming, please!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not actually own Harry Potter and all such etc. Although, have you guys checked out the Harry Potter Hogwarts Mystery game? So much fun!**

 **This is a really, really short chapter. Sorry, but the next few will be longer.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Dear Mister Fred Weasley,_

 _I met you once, for the briefest of seconds. You never actually knew me, 'cept of course for the one or two times you and your brother tried to weasel your way into my establishment, The Hog's Head, which of course is more often an adult drinking establishment, not one suited for students of any year. I've been told that was most likely why the two of you miscreants tried to get in there in the first place. Ah. A pair of troublemakers, I heard. There be legends and rumors and great big tales about you now, spread solely by that insane abundance of family members attending the school now, half of them knocking on my door to hear my side of the war story. I don' want none o'that._

 _Oh yeah. Nearly forgot. Name's Aberforth. Aberforth Dumbledore._

 _Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah. Right. We only met for a second. Maybe less than that, and maybe once before, but it was never formal. No introductions or the like._

 _I think the first time I ever caught yer faces was when you, your brother , and a few of your meddling troublemaker friends trying to sneak into my keep. A large party of goblins and vampires were having a meeting and came gliding through my front door and I saw ye few sneaking in with yer hoods up over your faces and tossed you right out. One if you (can;t remember right if it was you or your brother, since I never knew you well enough to ever figure out the damned difference) but one of you called out a rude cuss and asked why I couldn't be more like The Three Broomsticks and open my cheery doors for all ages, not just those who were of age. I believe my distinct reply was "Bugger off you mangy twits and don't come back till the Trace be off yer butts."_

 _Hehehe._

 _I think you tried to sneak in a second time, but many Professors were meeting in my Hog's head 'stead of the Broom, so one glare from that Minerva and you few scurried off with yer tails between your legs. Ha! Wish my glares worked like that, but that Headmistress has a magic unbeknownst to the rest of the Wizarding World._

 _But the third time we crossed paths was during a less peaceful time. The Battle. The Dark War. And again, it was only for a second. That Potter and his troop (the younger red head and the pretty brunette witch) came storming through Hogsmeade with no bloody clue of what has happened hence the my brother Albus's death and setting off all sorts of alarms. I took them in, insults were exchanged once they knew who I was, and somehow I found myself bullied in providing transport into the castle for a full battalion of witches and wizards who wished to fight. You were among them, with the rest of your bloody family. I remember them, cause of the red hair of course. Plus I've been here bout as long as my brother, which means I remember your parents very well, Mister Fred Weasley. Arthur and Molly. Odd ducks, the both of them. Deserve each other. Hope they're well._

 _Anyways, I saw you Apparate into my Head, and then watched as you traveled the hidden passage into the castle. Just a glimpse, really, and that was it. I wasn't much more involved with the war. I mean, I fought, but not much. Kept back. Kept my head down. I don't mean to sound crotchety, but understand I never wanted to fight. I was close to lying down and dying when Harry Potter came bursting through the village. I still wasn't sure it was all worth it, or even possible. But I added my fuel to the fire, nevertheless._

 _You're probably calling me mad, wondering why an old codger like me would even bother with a letter when I never knew you. Not the way a hundred other people knew you, eh? But, see, it's not like I don't remember you, even that tiny bit. And its not like something didn't change when you died._

 _See, you were so young. A kid, really. And there you were, with your brother, side by side, getting ready to fight. Together. It reminded me of how Albus and I used to be. When we were younger, taking care of Ariana, together. Before our parents decided that Albus would be the scholar, the one to make future for himself and I would be better off as a laborer, taking care of the goats and our sister, who was very ill, mentally. Before Albus met Gellert Grindelwald. Things changed after that._

 _But I wished we had had the time to make amends, rather than him just setting me up in the village. Wished we could have fought together like you and your brother, Mister George Weasley. No matter one of you is gone and one of you remains. You are still brothers. Still family. And if there is a life after this one, if something awaits us past the veil of death, I am certain he is waiting there. Maybe he's telling you that right now._

 _And to your brother, Mister George, may I say that I understand? I look eerily similar to my brother, Albus. So much so, Harry Potter himself was convinced he was still alive, despite having seen him tossed over the side of that tower. So I know what people think they see at a quick glance to me. I know what some must see with a quick glance to you. It's hard legacy to carry, that of your brother, especially when that legacy is not only name, but face, too._

 _Eh, this was a useless waste of my time, was it not? What have I got to be writing about at this point in my life? What right have I to be writing to you, when as I said, we never officially met? Never had a conversation long enough to build a connection, and yet - you were part of a war I was scared to fight. Scared because I no longer trusted my brother and his crusades "For The Greater Good"._

 _And maybe it is for that very reason why I write._

 _Perhaps that singular brother of yours might decide to take a visit to the village and pop into my fine establishment. Perhaps he might regal me with stories of who you were, so I might know what all the hubbub is about. Perhaps he might let me apologize for all those years ago._

 _Well. That's it, I suppose. End of my letter. Got to go tend my goats and run my bar._

 _So long, Mister Fred Weasley. Say hello to my brother for me, and my sister, if you see her. Tell them….well, tell them the usual, I guess. Love them and all that mess._

 _Aberforth Dumbledore._

* * *

George let out a low whistle. Aberforth Dumbledore. He hadn't thought about that man in years, and a small twinge of guilt followed that thought, but he shrugged it off. He couldn't possible think about every single person in his life every second of every day. He was bound to forget a few along the years, thinking go them in surprising flashes. And it wasn't like Aberforth was ever a close friend of theirs. In fact, up until the Battle, George had never even put two and two together and realized that the old barkeep of the Hog's Head was the Headmaster's brother!

 _Just goes to show you what you miss when you're too wrapped up in your own little world._

"Oh, please. What a load." George scoffed. "We were always wrapped up in ourselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione were always wrapped up in themselves. Well, actually, maybe it was just Harry and Ron. Hermione was certainly in her own head a lot, but not like us. Not so busy that she never noticed things around her."

 _Just another way she was smarter than the rest of us. Don't you dare tell her._

"Never." George laughed. "Although, she's about to become the Minister of Magic. I think she already knows she's smarter than the rest of us."

George folded the letter in his hands, making new creases as the bent the brittle parchment. It seemed like, with every new fold, the scent of mead and ale leaked from the pores of the paper, and the musty small filled the small room and made George's eyes water and, surprisingly, his stomach rumble. He was surprised to find that he was actually getting hungry. The last few weeks leading up to the anniversary of the war, George hadn't been eating, or at least, hadn't been eating well. He ignored the hunger pains and only ate when someone forced a plate into his hands and pried his mouth open to shove the sandwich in. But he never actually felt like eating until right now. And thirsty, too. It was like he was coming alive again, a dying man in the desert who just found civilization as he lies on the edge of death, and suddenly, he's saved.

 _You're saved, Georgie. You have been saved. But you need to accept it._

George cracked his back, arching his spine and stretching his muscles, listening to the joint pop and creak and crack. His cracked his fingers, his neck, his jaw, his toes and ankles, wrists and knees, every single part of him being released from a kind of stupor.

 _You need to accept it, and come alive again._


	52. Mundungus Fletcher's Letter

**A/N: Please review! It's longer than usual, but worth it. I hope.**

* * *

"Why in the name of Merlin is this miserable bastard writing to you?"

 _Maybe because I, too, am a miserable bastard. It's how we bonded._

"Fred, seriously, shut it you git. I'm being serious -"

 _Well that's the worst impression I've ever seen._

"Fred, why is Mundungus Fletcher writing a letter to you on the anniversary of your death?"

 _Hmm…I don't know, George. Maybe he was bored, or drunk, or - hey, here's a thought - it's the anniversary of my death and he has something to say to me?_

"What could he possibly have to say?"

 _I assume that's the whole reason for him writing the letter. Making amends and all that._

"Well he sure has a lot to make amends for." George griped. "Disapparating in the middle of moving Harry, getting Mad-Eye killed, then hiding out who knows where during the whole Dark year, and even after everything with the Battle and the Restoration, he never showed his ugly mug. And now suddenly, he writes to you, out of the blue, to say what? He's _sorry?"_

 _Harry and Ron did say they ran into him once at Grimmauld Place._

"Yeah, after they sent Kreacher to hunt him down, only to find out that the idiot sold a powerful Horcrux to Um-bitch herself. And then he disappeared again, went back into his hole while the rest of us fought and….and died in the Second War. I bet after it was all over, after the Restoration of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and the houses and villages and cities all the Death Eaters pillaged….I bet he didn't even care. Just went back to pilfering artifacts and reselling half decent cauldrons."

 _Then throw away the letter, then, if you're so sure you know everything._

"What?" George said distractedly, too immersed in bitter memories of someone who - well he had never been a friend, but even so - betrayed them all with his disloyalty.

 _You think Dung was more or less a traitor in the fact that he didn't fight. That he abandoned us all during our "Seven Harry's" trick, leaving Mad-Eye to die. That he was a worm, a low life, a thief. And for the most part, you'd be right. Anyone would agree. But George…I don't know that you know the whole story._

"The whole story?"

 _About Mundungus Fletcher._

"What's there to know? He's a disloyal bastard."

 _Maybe you're right. And if you are, I guess you can skip right past this one. But if you're not…if there's something you're missing, or maybe never even knew…read the letter. What harm could it do?_

"You speaking in rhyme now, Fred?"

 _Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie…._

"Shut up, you moron."

 _You started it._

"Did not."

 _Did too._

"Did not."

 _Did too._

"Didn't."

 _Did._

"Nope."

 _Absolutely did._

"Liar."

 _You calling me a liar? Me, your beloved dead brother? Oh George, how you slay me to the bone, how you cut me to the wick, how you bleed my feelings dry, how -_

"Okay, okay! You've made your point." George rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. Though he couldn't see his brother (he never would again, not until he passed beyond that veil) he knew by the silence in his mind that Fred would be grinning ear to ear.

 _Something you can't exactly do anymore, huh, Georgie?_

"Don't be an asshole, Frederick, sir. Being dead doesn't give you a free pass to be a dick."

 _Sure, sure, sure. Just get on with it already, George. I've got places to be, people to haunt and all that being dead entails._

"Yeah, sure you do." George started flattening out the crumpled piece of parchment when a thought hit him. "Hey, wait a second Fred…do you really?"

 _Do I really what?_

"Have other people to haunt - I mean, visit? Like Mum or Angelina or Bill or Percy or…anyone from this pile?"

There was silence for a full minute. George might have thought Fred had vanished from his mind had he not still felt his presence, felt his twin thinking.

 _I won't lie to you, George. It's complicated here on the other side._

"What the hell does that mean?"

 _It means everyone has their own experiences with the dead. Some people we interact with in dreams. Though they'll never admit it to anyone._

"Did you -"

 _Mum and Dad, sometimes. Give them a glimpse, show them I'm alright. And Angelina, once, after it first happened. Told her it was okay to move on, that I loved her and always will but that I shouldn't be the reason she holds herself back from loving you._

George didn't respond. He didn't know how to feel about his Fred visiting others, even in their family. It felt like something special, something that was just for the two of them, was suddenly ordinary.

 _Anyways, as I was saying, some people have dreams we can enter. Some people need a glimpse now and again - no contact just a visible flash. Like Ginny - after her wedding, she thought she saw me at the edge of the garden. She thought she was imagining things but I was there. Smiled at her, waved. It gave her peace to know that I wouldn't have missed her wedding for anything. Or Charlie. Sometimes when he's tired after working for so long, it helps him to see me, right before he falls asleep. He thinks he's dreaming, but I'm there. Watching out for my big brother._

'What about Bill and Percy? Harry, Ron, Hermione?" George asks. "What about me? What about everyone else?"

 _With Bill and Percy, it's different. They hear my voice, every now and then. Just a whisper, like it could be the wind. I'll say shit like I used to, to make them smile, or to remind them that I'm not really gone, just…out of sight. And with Harry and Ron…well, sometimes all they need is to feel a presence. Harry's got loads of people here on the other side to take care of him, though, so I only visit when I'm specifically needed. I look after Ronnie, though. And Hermione, too. Someone's got to remind her every now and again that rules are sometimes meant to be broken. Just a nudge in her memory here and there as needed._

"Wow." George sighed, "Sounds…complicated."

 _It can be. To us, though, it's…well, it gives us a purpose. Part of our heaven, I guess. To still be with the ones we love._

"You haven't finished answering my questions, though."

 _George….the way it works is complicated. Those of us who are dead interact with the living in the ways they need us most. Remus and Tonks are always with their son, in some way. James and Sirius and Remus are always together but always with Harry. James and Lily never leave Harry. But Remus and Dumbledore also hang around Hogwarts, when Dumbledore isn't with his brother. I tend to visit the school a lot too. But I'm also never apart from this family, or anyone who loved me, who thinks about me. Don't you see? The dead aren't confined to one body anymore. We are everywhere and in one place at the same time._

"Oh."

 _But George…the way I'm here right now…I can honestly say that it's the only place I am. The only place that has ever been the top of my list. Right next to my partner in crime. You are different, George, because you are me. You feel me, you hear me, you understand me. This is what you need, and this is what I'm giving to you now._

"But why wait so long?" George whined. "It's been twenty years and you haven't done any of this before?"

 _Because you didn't need this before. You had family, a wife and children to look after. I came to you in dreams, and in whispers and in memories and presences. But it was never enough to fill what you were looking for because you were looking for me when I wasn't there. So here I am._

George was silent for a long time, taking all of that in. Death sounded a lot more stressful than peaceful, but in his ear, Fred didn't sound anything more than relaxed, so George believed that maybe all the semantics were dealt with for you in the afterlife.

"Ah, Fred." He sighed at last. "You should stick to jokes. Serious doesn't suit you."

 _Sirius will be pleased…or maybe disappointed._

George huffed. It was a pathetic joke, at best, but George appreciated the effort. He sighed again, feeling the beginnings of a headache in the base of his skull. Logically, he knew he should take a break, should sleep it off, drink some water, Apparate out of this damn room. But he had this fear inside of him that if he did so, Fred might be gone and this would have been nothing but a freaky dream. So instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing his headache back, and widened his eyes before shaking out the paper in front of him. In the dimming light, his eye sight was worse, and in a few more years he might need glasses, but for now, he held the disgraceful letter up to his nose and blinked at the untidy scrawl.

"Idiot's writing is worse than Errol's flying." George muttered.

 _Now who's rhyming._

"Oh forget you."

 _Couldn't if you tried._

* * *

 _Fred - er uh, Mr. Weasley? Fred Weasley? Mr. Fred Weasley? Whatever -_

 _Dung. Mundungus Fletcher. Remember me? Probably not, but let's say for argument's sake that you do. Come on, you gotta remember me, back when I frequented Grimmauld Place, eh, with the rest of the Order. Eh? Wasn't much help half the time but I did what I could - so long as no - eh, business ventures came my immediate way._

 _Ah, what the hell. Don't even know why I'm writing this damn thing. Shouldn't be. Should just toss this in the trash where it belongs. Not that you're trash, kid, just….ah, who would ever want a letter from old Dung Fletcher? No one, that's who._

 _You think I don't know what the others say about me, about Mundungus Fletcher? I'm a screwup of a wizard. A thief, a con man, a scammer, a rat, a worm, a low life, to name a few that dear old Minerva McGonagall had the kindness to say to my face. And she's not wrong, though I prefer the term "unsolicited business man" as my official title. Not that it makes a difference to the higher-ups._

 _Okay, so I made some mistakes, the first being trying to bring semi-legally imported flying carpets into Grimmauld Place and under Molly Weasley's nose. Never again. She sure can yell, eh? Some of my other not-so-greatest-hits include abandoning you all during that flight across Surrey. Panicking like that. I know Mad-Eye died because I blew it. And I know you all probably think I don't care and that I moved on, but that's….that's not the truth, Fred._

 _The truth is….it haunts me. Alastor Moody haunts me. The memory of a man who took a chance on me and my so-called brilliant plan, and who I left at the first sign of trouble. When everyone needed me to hold it together most, for Harry and for all of us. And I was too chicken. A rat bastard who couldn't hold his loyalty in check. And I know I was never the most loyal to begin with, but…I always thought I had some minute sense of integrity, where it counted and all that. But I guess not._

 _So I was scared. Scared of You-Know-Who and his power, his followers, what they might do to me. I was scared of what the good guys might do to me, too, if they ever got their hands on my as well. For all I knew, you thought me a traitor. So I went back to what I knew: selling trinkets and faulty jewelry and discounted rugs and carpets, brooms and shrunken heads, all the goods one normally finds down Knockturn Alley. Then o'course that She-Hag in pink comes wandering down to my stall, with that twisted perky smile of hers, asking about my permits, about my blood-status….so I sold her this pretty old locket I had taken from Grimmauld Place back when we were cleaning out all the trash from every nook and cranny. Little did I know my mistake. Another mistake._

 _I was hunted down and attacked by two half-pin house elves, Apparated and brought back against my will to Grimmauld Place to face trial against Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Miss Hermione Granger. Asked me about the locket. Had to tell them everything. I was so embarrassed, though I doubt they knew that. Thought I was my usual squirrelly self. But in fact…I was terrified of them. Of Harry and Hermione, really, though I have no doubt your youngest brother could easily take me. They were the heroes of the story, not me. All I did was screw it up, add a bit of humor maybe but mostly I'm a disgrace. Don't deny it (though I doubt you are) it's the bitter truth, and I've come to terms with that._

 _And my biggest mistake? I didn't even try to redeem myself in the Battle at Hogwarts. I wasn't there. I was hiding again. Ain't that the story of my life. You know, sometimes I think it would be better if I was the one who had died instead of Alastor…instead of you. Everyone might be better off._

 _Alright, so maybe this wasn't a total waste. Maybe I had some things to say here, and maybe I feel a little less…less._

 _It won't last, this feeling of not-less. Believe me, I'll be back to being a downright ass before long. But figured….somebody should know about Dung. About how he ain't as worthless as he seems. Well, I mean, I am pretty worthless but hey, there's always a light in a dark place right? That's what Dumbledore used to say. Great man, Dumbledore. Got me out of a tight place more than once. Only one who believed I wasn't a total schmuck, even after my family died. Tried getting me a job in Hogsmeade, though that never lasted long. In the end, he gave me something I could use at any point in time: his seal of protection against any and all charges that might be laid against me in the future. Got me out of sentences in Azkaban, reduced it to community services and fines and the one who ever gave me a chance._

 _Well, Freddie boy. Don't know I got much more to to say. Don't know that you've read any of this in the first place. Eh, so it goes._

 _Dung._

* * *

George folded the piece of paper, smoothing out the wrinkles and previous folds.

"Well, well, well. Mundungus Fletcher. Who would have ever thought it." George muttered. "Not me. Not any of us."

 _Nobody is ever as bad as they seem. People paint others in the light of their choosing and all that. And it's not like any of us ever took the time to get to know Dung - or even talk to him without accusations after it was all over._

"Yeah, well, maybe its time we do." George said. "Maybe it's time to put everything in the past to rest."


	53. Filch's Letter

**A/N: Thanks as always for the positive feedback. Summer is ending and I head back to college in a week. I want to start getting back into the swing of things with my updates, finishing up some stories and work on others that I haven't published yet. Hopefully.**

 **But for now, please continue to read and review! This story is almost over, with about 10-12 chapters to go! Can you believe it? Thanks to everyone who has supported this fanfiction, whether you've been following since the beginning or whether you joined last week. It all means the world to me.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing but the books and movies.**

 **Thanks, and review!**

* * *

"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two…" George counted, sighing. "And this would make fifty three. Merlin, Fred, how do we even _know_ fifty three people?"

 _Personally? We don't. Twenty, maybe. But overall…I'd say we could call out a near hundred just by name. And as heroes of war and well-established genius businessmen, our name has certainly gotten around, eh?_

"I guess you're right." George mused.

 _Aren't I always?_

"We've had this argument before, Fred. No, you are not always right. Remember your idea for garroting wire that could double as dental floss? Not your finest hour."

 _Okay, so I had one little misadventure with that particular product._

"Fred, you remember how pissed Mum was when she had to take you to St. Mungo's because your mouth was a bloody mess? Sawed right through the gum and hit bone! Even the Healers were scared because you had gone and done something so stupid like using Muggle products like garroting wire in your mouth!"

 _Okay, okay, I see your point. So I was wrong that one time._

"One time? Fred, you are my twin brother. Up until your death, we had never spent one minute away from each other, so I can honestly tell you that you, dear brother, have been wrong well more than one time."

 _Such as?_

"Uh, let's see, there was your pitch to make Fanged Frisbees venomous with a paralytic. Oh, and then there was your brilliant idea to try an Ever Change Color Spell on the cat - which was stuck on green for months - and then when you wanted to teach yourself how to Apparate, and then there was the first go at Extendable Ears, except they weren't ears at first, if you recall, they were -"

 _Hey that wasn't my idea, it was yours. And I don't remember you exactly being the voice of reason and logic in all these scenarios, Saint George. Yeah, more like a devil on my shoulder, hm?_

"Well," George shrugged, "call me what you will, but I never accidentally lodged my wand up my-"

 _I THOUGHT WE AGREED TO NEVER MENTION THAT INCIDENT EVER AGAIN - I SWEAR GEORGE - I WAS JUST -_

George couldn't help the ripple of laughter that erupted from his chest. He was caught by surprise, but made no effort to quell the shaking of his shoulder, or the thunderous belt of his full laugh. Long and hard, he fell back on the bed, tears streaming down his face, but he wasn't sad for the first time in what felt like forever. He was letting everything out in big guffaws and chuckles and bubbly giggles and snorts. George found himself reveling in it. He hadn't laughed like this since Fred died, since before that even, since the War started coming down on them all. And now it was all coming back to him in one big wave -

And then it was over. Just like that, it all tapered off and he was left heaving on his back, staring up at the ceiling, having hardly moved but completely winded nonetheless.

"Whoa." He said softly. "That felt good."

Fred was quiet in his mind, but George perceived this silence as a kind of agreement. The emotion Fred's apparition was emitting to him was almost…happy, but it was a sad kind of happy, and there was a hint of…was that pride? It was so hard to tell, especially since he couldn't see his brother's face. He had always been able to read his twin's mind with just one look into his eyes, or catching a facial expression, or a flick of a wrist, the crack of his knuckles or neck or jaw or literally with anything Fred did, George knew what was behind it. And now…now he had lost all of that. Lost it to the veil.

 _You haven't lost anything, brother. It's all right there, waiting for you._

George sighed again, but it didn't carry any of the weight it usually did. George frowned at that. He was changing. Whether it was Fred or these letters or both..he was changing because of them. And while it didn't feel particularly bad…it didn't feel exactly great, either. Just different.

"Yeah. Well." George cleared his throat. "What's waiting for me is this damned box of letters that I can finally see the end of. Got like, another ten of these? Maybe? Thank Merlin. I swear this could have been one of our products - a box that never ends. Just keeps spewing out whatever you put inside it."

 _Like a Duplicating Charm? Could be interesting…_

"Yeah, or a lawsuit waiting to happen. If Hagrid got one and then put in a dragon's egg or a Fire-Crab or something, all hell would break loose."

 _Ooh, right. Selective clientele then._

"Right, cause that would go over smoothly."

 _Pick another bloody letter._

George closed his eyes and dropped his hand into the box, shuffling the remaining dozen letters around. Finally, he let his fingers catch under the seal of one and held it up like a prize catch, even though, on the outside, it was no different than the fifty-two others before it.

"Oh goodie." He flicked the seal free of the envelope with one practiced swipe of his finger and tugged out the - well, it wasn't a letter. "Did someone…write this on trash?"

It was a torn and cleanly old piece of parchment. Splotches dotted the paper (either water damage or maybe ink, though it was darker than either of those) and the writing was cramped and scraggly and written in a slanting diagonal that changed whenever the sender came to a torn ragged edge or one of the holes that looked like something had burned through it.

"What in the world?" George gaped at the poor excuse for a letter. Could it even be called that? It looked more like a page out of someone's long forgotten diary or journal entry that was somehow survived a fire only to be caught in the rain before someone had crumpled it up and thrown it away…where rats ate away at it…for a hundred years.

* * *

 _Fred Weasley._

 _I won't write "Dear" because you weren't. Not to me. No, you and your brother of yours were nothing but terrors to me during the like of your stay at Hogwarts. Worst in my experience, with the possible exception of James Potter and Sirius Black, back when they were students. In my opinion, none of you ever got the proper discipline what was coming to you. Belts, chains, hanging by your thumbs till they snapped or hanging by your ankles till the blood rushed some common sense into those empty skulls of yours. But of course, punishments like that ended well before my time at Hogwarts, sadly. I've petitioned Headmistress McGonagall a thousand times but she shows me about as much respect as Dumbledore did._

 _Which is not to say he never respected me. He did, that man. But he never took my suggestions. Never carried through with threats against children. Not like Dolores did, or Professor -er, former Headmaster Snape. Now, they knew how to run a school. How to command respect that you despicable vermin still refuse to give to me, though I've been here longer than any of you. Fear is not respect. No, fear only fuels your need to disobey and ridicule and make messes of catastrophic proportions that I always have to clean with a pitiful amount of help._

 _Look, I ain't doin this for you or for me. Up to me, you wouldn't get a letter. Maybe some payback for all the hell you raised, drove me up the bloody walls. And then you had to near blow up the Great Hall and send Peeves on a godforsaken rampage for the rest of the year. Only reason I'm writing this piece of trash is because Headmistress ordered me to. Thought it might do me some good and make me less ornery. Hm. Show her what's what. I always been this way, and nothing, not even a stupid letter, is gonna change what I've always been._

 _So what? What do you want me to say? I miss ya? Well I don't. Not you or your brother or Mr. Potter or any of the Weasley-Potter-Granger hybrids now running rampant through the school. Should exterminate all of ya. Actually, why not all children. Waste. Pathetic, ignorant, horrible -_

 _Forget it. I'm no good at this sappy crap. Never have been, never will be._

 _Look, here's the deal. I didn't have it good as a kid. Being a Squib in a magical-based family does that to ya. And then going to Hogwarts only to find out you never should have been there in the first place? Not pleasant. Kids are mean and cruel and downright demons, especially to anyone they deem different or weird. And I was that. So Dumbledore took me under his wing, helped me not feel so useless. Then, when I was older, gave me a job where I would have just a little but of power, gain some respect and some fear. It worked for a long time, then you two idiots come barging through, aiming my life more miserable than it usually is._

 _So don't expect me to say I miss you at all. Cause I don't. I don't miss the Dungbombs or the charmed hallways or the tag-team between you and Peeves, or the enchanted snowballs in the corridors or the constant sneaking around the castle past curfew or sneaking into the Forest. I don't miss it at all. I relish the constant silence and monotony of my days here at Hogwarts. I love never being surprised anymore. I love not being tormented by the only people who ever seemed to give a crap about me, even if it was to drive me and Mrs. Norris absolutely batty. Nope. I don't care to remember the only kids who tried to remember me. Makes me sick to my stomach and my eyes all red and my chest gets tight and I can't breathe. Disgusting. Rather not do it at all._

 _The end. I'm done._

 _A. Filch_

* * *

George stared in shock at the piss-poor letter from Argus Filch, the caretaker at Hogwarts.

"That miserable bastard actually tried writing a letter to you, and the majority of it is insults."

 _Aw, he really does care._

"Ha." George huffed, but he scanned the last paragraph again, taking in every false bitter word the older man had written. "Maybe he does. In his own way."

 _People will surprise you, George, if you let them._


	54. Ludo Bagman's Letter

**A/N: I swear I'm working on chapters for my other stories, but this one is almost finished so its moving much faster. I'm sorry, I"m sorry. I know I haven't updated some of my other pieces in a long time, and I swear I am not on hiatus from any story. Though, for a few, I did need a break from some harsh anonymous reviewers.**

 **I respect everyones opinion to tell me what they think, but please remember for everyone one: there is a fine line between berating someone and their creativity and leaving constructive criticism. I respect all constructive criticism but I will not tolerate bullying or harassment. Thank you.**

 **Anyways, guys, we have eight chapters left! I've done some editing with the remaining characters, so I know I said there were more, but there's only eight now. The final eight! Here we go!**

 **Please continue to review!**

* * *

The last time Fred and George Weasley saw Ludo Bagman, it was after the end of the Triwizard Tournament when he was chased off by a group of nasty goblins he had gipped. He had conned the twins out of quite a bit of money themselves (all their savings that they had pooled into a bet at the World Cup - a bet which they had won, fair and square) and as far as they knew, he had gone underground after that. Their dad even said that Ludo had then resigned temporarily from the Ministry, having left Percy in charge for a few weeks until they found a replacement, and had taken off. And, as far as George had known up until now, he had never surfaced. He had always presumed that either Death Eaters or those angry goblins had finally caught up with him.

But now George was staring at another unexpected letter from someone from their distant past, someone who they held not the best relations with and thought dead for over twenty-five years.

"Seriously? Guess we're really scraping the bottom of the barrel here, huh?"

 _Eh. Maybe he's actually got something to say._

"You've said that about everyone." George huffed.

 _And I was right every time, was I not?_

"Eh."

 _Well then._

George chuckled as he peeled the letter open. The parchment was brittle, as if it had gotten wet and then dried up, so he spent some time cracking the dried up folds.

"What even -" George said, trying not to let his frustration at the painstaking process force his hand, not wanting to rip the old parchment."How does something even get like this? It'll never open!"

 _Are you a wizard or not, old man?_

"Oh. Right." George placed the letter on the bed beside him and pulled his wand from his sleeve. " _Waddiwasi!"_

The paper split apart with more force then he intended and he watched in shock as the old, shriveled up paper tore completely in two with a harsh, crackling sound.

"Oops." He hissed. " _Reparo!_ "

The letter mended itself easily (thank Merlin) and George was relieved to see that it also remained unstuck. Carefully, afraid he might have overshot it a bit, George picked up Ludo Bagman's letter and held it close to his nose - and immediate realized why the letter had been stuck together.

" _Merlin's saggy Y-fronts!"_ George gagged. "Did he piss on this?"

 _He always was a bit of a drunkard._

"A bit?" George gagged. "I think this is pushing it quite a bit further over that line, Fred. This damn thing reeks like Moaning Myrtle's toilet!"

 _Wow. Glad I can't smell right now._

"I wish I couldn't smell." George said.

 _Maybe try breathing through your mouth._

"You realize the last time you told me to breath through my mouth, you had somehow "forgotten" to inform me that you had just set off a string of dung bombs."

 _Not my fault you got sensitive taste buds or whatever._

"Dude I was tasting that stench for a week. Everything I ate tasted like troll toes."

 _Ew. That's gross._

"Yeah! My point exactly!"

 _Okay, so…hold your breath and read fast, I guess._

"Seriously? That's all you got?"

 _Got a better idea?_

He didn't, but like hell would he ever admit that to his brother, in life or in death. Instead, he bit his tongue and sucked in a deep breath before bringing the piss-stained letter closer to his face and read as fast as possible whatever it was poor Ludo Bagman had to say.

* * *

 _Freddie boy. Fred - Frederick - Fredrick-son. Fred Weasley._

 _Howdy, buckaroo. 'Member me? Yer ol' pal, Ludo Bagman. Yeha, it's me alright. Good ol' Ludo. Betcha thought I was dead, huh, or, uh, maybe hiding away in some little hidey-hole I got stashed in some fine ass place like Bulgaria or Australia or Texas. Well, you'd be wrong on both counts son. I'm alive and kickin' and living right where I always have been - not that you'd know that. Not that anybody would know that. After all, who would ever come looking for Ludovic Bagman, the cheap con who's decades past his prime and just another useless washout._

 _Anyways, kid. Listen. I'm not exactly sober at the mo', but that's all the more reason to write this goddman thing that every body on the goddamn planet seems to be writing. A Letter to Fred. A Letter to Heaven._

 _Well. I, uh…I'm, uh…._

 _Bloody Merlin. Okay. I'm sorry, Fred._

 _There. I said it. My soul can rest easy. Or - the whiskey can, at the very least._

 _I'm sorry. Last time we met, I- well, I was pretty rotten to you and your brother. Cheated you, I did. All your savings. You two made a helluva good bet, you did, and right on the nose. And then I went and did you wrong, giving ya both leprechaun gold 'stead of your winnings. No wonder you came after me all hellhound-like. But you have to understand that I was-I was in a lot of trouble back then. Debts to pay, bad bets I made, bets I officiated and then couldn't pay up because I took off with the money before the games were done. You weren't the only ones looking for me, demanding what I owed. S' why I made the bet on Harry during that Tournament. Thought I could collect at the end, settle everyone's scores. But then Harry, of course, goes and surprises every last one of us. Every damn time you think you got a line on that boy, he goes and does a complete 180 on ya. Every damn time._

 _So I made some mistakes. A loot of mistakes. More than my fair share, sure. And I'll be making loads more before I die, yep. That's not a threat or a promise, just a fact of life, kid. Ain't much more about it. About this._

 _The alcohol is wearing off. Not good. Need it to function. To forget what a bum I am, what a loser, what a miserable bastard I am. Don't need to sugar coat the truth._

 _I am not a horrible man. Nah, I'm not that hard on myself. But I made mistakes, and for those I can never properly atone. I can't go back and pay you the money you won. I can't go back and not make the thousands of bets that led to my life of ruin and drinking. And I can't go back and show up and fight in that final battle against Voldemort and his dark followers and maybe showed one last stand, showed everyone that I wasn't as washed up as they thought, that if I could be a hero, then there was hope for everyone…that if kids like you could be heroes far beyond your years, experiencing pain and loss like you shouldn't have to, then maybe I could…_

 _But it's all in the past, and I don't like going back there too often cause it makes me think and thats what the alcohol helps numb._

 _I'll leave it here, then, Freddie boy. Leave this letter on the expressway to Heaven where you're sure to read it. Or maybe it'll go back to that brother of yours. Sure he could read it once or twice before tossing this in the trash where it belongs. Actually, I grabbed this paper out of the trash, so it probably reeks of booze or - Blimey. Probably shouldn't even send this. Not worth the owl._

 _Cheers_

 _Ludovic "Ludo" Bagman_

* * *

George folded the piss letter and aimed it at the trash can in the corner. He paused, staring hard at the can then back at this mess of a letter, a short apology written in a drunken state. Sighing, he placed it instead with the other letters, knowing, in his heart of hearts, that whatever haunted Ludo Bagman, whatever burdens and ghosts that poor man carried, maybe they both could rest easy knowing that this between the twins and him could be laid to rest.


	55. Alicia Spinnet's Letter

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews guys, as always. It means a lot to me to have your support as this story comes to a close. We still have a ways to go, my friends, but it's come to that time. Seven chapters…let the countdown begin.**

 **Also, this chapter isn't one of my best, but I tried, guys. I really tried.**

 **Please review!**

* * *

"One, two, three…"

 _Four, five, six_

"Seven." George counted, and leaned away from the almost empty box, eyebrows raised. He whistled. "Seven letters left. Can it really almost be over?"

 _Well, I wouldn't say it's almost over. More like, the beginning of the end? Or maybe the end of another chapter in your life? Beginning of the middle of the end?_

"Don't strain yourself."

 _Don't get cranky with me just cause it's past your bedtime, old man._

"Fred, if you were still alive, we'd be the same age."

 _But alas, I have the burden of being eternally twenty-one. No wrinkles, no crows feet, no grey hair -_

"No common sense, no dignity -"

 _Can it, Grandpa._

"Hey. Not a Grandpa. Roxanne and Fred Jr. are _way_ too young for that." George snapped good-naturedly.

 _They sure are growing up fast, aren't they?_

"Too fast, if you ask me."

 _Everyone has to grow up sometime, George. Grow up, move on, let go. It's all a part of life._

"Yeah, well. Life kind of sucks sometimes."

 _That's when you know you're doing it right._

"Excuse me?"

 _Life isn't worth living if there isn't some pain, you know? Something to lose? Some risk to take? So when it does go wrong, when it does suck, that's how you know what you were doing was worth it._

"No pain, no gain?" George surmised.

 _More like, if there's no heartache, there was nothing to risk loving in the first place._

"Wow." George hummed. "Death has indeed made you wise, brother."

 _I'm quoting Dumbledore, actually. But the point still stands!_

George laughed under his breath. He could just imagine Fred leaning over him, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, with Albus Dumbledore over one shoulder, and maybe Remus Lupin or Tonks over the other. Hell, maybe Harry's dad and Sirius were laughing right along with him right now. Who really knew?

 _So, anyways. You got seven more letters, Georgie dear. We got to get moving. It's almost time._

"Time? Time for what?" George paused in his picking up another envelope.

 _Not yet, just…soon. Come on, then. Open it._

The joviality he had felt moments before evaporated in seconds, leaving him cold and unsure what his brother's spirit was trying to allude to him. He pushed it as far back as his mind would allow him and flicked the wax seal open and sliding out the newest letter. Thankfully, this one did not smell like piss whiskey, but rather, it had the scent of…

"Is that leather? And- lavender? Maybe?" George sniffed the paper again. "Chocolate? Why does the paper smell like chocolate?"

 _Chocolate, lavender scent, and leather, to be more specific._

George unfolded the paper quickly, his curiosity piqued and the other concerns falling away for the moment. As his eyes skimmed the writing, searching for the end, for the signature, he felt a grin quirk on his lips. He recognized this writing. He had passed over half a dozen notes back and forth with her, gotten a thousand memos about Quidditch practice and joke ideas and been hexed more times than he could remember during dueling practice by this five foot four woman of his past.

 _Alicia Spinnet._

"Alicia." George huffed. "I can't believe it. I totally didn't even realize I hadn't read her letter yet. I mean, I read Angelina's and Katie's and at some point I must have known Alicia was in the pile somewhere, too, but I guess..I forgot? Maybe I thought I missed it. I mean, I have read over fifty of these things now. Alicia Spinnet."

 _One of the best Chasers on our team back in the day. Had the technique down to a science, she did._

"I always thought she would make it into the major leagues." George sighed. "But I never heard her name come up, not like Woods. And Ginny said she wasn't in any of the rosters. It was like…she disappeared from Quidditch. Wonder what she's been up to these last years?"

 _Hm. I don't know. It's not like you have the answer right in front of your oddly misshapen nose or anything. Nope. No possible way to answer a question that even Ickle-Ronnykins would be able to answer without help._

"Git."

 _Buffoon._

"Imbecile."

 _Read the damn letter already, twit. Remember what I said about running out of time?_

George did remember. He had been trying not to think about it, actually, but Fred seemed hell bent on reminding him every few minutes. Trying to contain the clenching in his heart, George refocused his attention on what was in front of him: a letter from an old friend.

* * *

 _Fred._

 _Hey. It's me. Alicia. Spinnet. Remember me? Of course you do. You don't forget your friends. Never have, never will. That was always something great about you, Fred. You remembered everything, even the stuff that might seem stupid or trivial to some people. You knew it all. It's one of the things I miss most about you._

 _I never became a famous Chaser. I know, big surprise. Everyone always expected me to go into Quidditch - you, George, Wood, Angelina, Katie. Everyone always figured I'd be on the fast track straight to the World Cup. I never thought I was that good, you know, but you guys sure did. In all honesty, back then, I didn't have much else going for me. I was decent witch, sure enough, but not like Hermione, alright. I wasn't the brightest in my year. I didn't excel in any one aspect of magic. And I wasn't like you guys, with your endless pranks and inventions and ideas that had the whole wizarding world just eating out of your hands. I wasn't part of any legacy or do any heroic deeds or fight for any cause larger than myself. Not until Dumbledore's Army or the Battle, anyways. I was always just - there. Just Alicia. So for a long while, I thought that maybe you guys were right. Maybe Quidditch was my way to be someone._

 _But it wasn't for me. I trained and trained every day since leaving Hogwarts, but when the time came for tryouts, I just…I didn't go. I knew that if I went, I would make it. I knew I was good. But I also knew that I didn't want what everyone else wanted for me. I wanted to find myself, something I never did while I was at school._

 _I think it was a year after we left school, the year before the Second War got underway…and you sent me an owl asking to meet up if I wasn't busy. Well, I wasn't. I was living with my parents at the time, working in a Muggle store just to pass the time. I wasn't even very good. I had to use magic to fix half the mistakes I made. (Also, Muggles have no sense of what anything is worth. Some days it will be one price, and then less the next day, and then double the price a week later! They can't ever make up their own mind)_

 _But anyways, we met up. It was just you and me, Fred. You said that George could handle the store himself while we talked, and I remember feeling a little concerned, but this was where you told me that you were planning to propose to Angelina. And I was…shocked, to say the least._

 _I have spoken to Angelina now and then, more recently since this letter thing has come around. She had wanted you to propose to her back then. You two would have been beautiful together, I know it. When you told me that you were planning to propose, and that you wanted my help in planning the wedding (me and Katie, of course), I nearly burst into tears, I was so happy. Fred, you have the kindest heart of anyone I know. You and your brother. There was always so much more to you than anyone knew._

 _So we talk for a while about how you were going to propose, and then all of a sudden you asked me what I've been doing since I left school. I remember feeling so small right then. I had nothing going on. Nothing. Here you were, with your own business and planning to marry my best friend, and there I was. Nothing. But before I said anything, you said,_

 _"_ You know, you could be a wedding planner. You got the knack for style, Alicia. Remember those homemade banners you used to make for the team when you were a reserve?"

 _Boom. Suddenly, there it was. I remembered. Back when I was a reserve Chaser for the Gryffindor team, I used to get all excited just to be on the bench that I would do anything to show spirit. So I made banners and scarves that flashed colors and shirts that had a charm that would flash the players names over and over again, and a hat that sprayed fireworks every time someone scored a goal. And I was the one who helped Flitwick decorate the Great Hall for the Yule Ball. And I used to tailor all the girls dresses and cloaks around the holidays to pick up some extra coin. And then, you had just asked me to help plan your wedding._

 _I realized, maybe there was more to me than met my own eye. Maybe I was good at something other than Quidditch after all._

 _So I became a wedding planner - but not just for Wizards. I cater to Wizards and Muggles alike. I mean, it's a whole other game, let me tell you, but its fascinating. And apparently, I'm very good at it! Most witches and wizards tend to have their own flair for weddings as it is, so having this whole other clientele really helps me out, but lately, I've been getting more and more clients in the Wizarding community. Everyone wants me to help plan and design their weddings or parties. You know I hired Luna part-time to help? And Ginny, when she has the time. It's been amazing. I never thought I could do something so…so….Muggle oriented and have it turned into one of the best aspects of my life._

 _And it's all because of you, Fred. Sure, it wasn't exactly where I thought my life was going. And to anybody who asks, compares me to who I was, yeah. I'll admit, it's a little out of character for me. A wedding and party planner. Like, seriously? Ha! But I love it. Dean Thomas (you remember him) let's me buy some of his artwork now and then and I use those designs to create new themes. I'm hoping to maybe open a shop of my own one day soon, selling designs and clothing and party supplies, kind of similar to what Zonko's was, but with less prank items._

 _I don't know. I don't know what the future holds for me. But I know that these last few years, doing what I wanted and being happy about it, was because you remembered something about me that I forgot._

 _When I heard you died, I cried for two weeks. I didn't get out of bed, I didn't go outside. I cried and cried. And then Angelina came over and she cried and cried with me. And I sat there, holding her and had her hold me because we lost you. We had loved you, albeit differently, but all the same. And she told me that she had thought you were the one, that you were going to propose. She had found the ring while helping Ginny clean out some of the boxes in your old office. She could have been your wife, and the knowledge of that, I think, almost killed her in the wake of your death._

 _But that's not to say I don't support George and her. I do. I think she loves him with all her heart, and she couldn't have that if she hadn't also loved you with everything she had._

 _You know, I don't have any idea whether or not I said what I wanted to in this letter. Did it sound insane? Did it sound too much not like me? Like I was a stranger? We haven't spoken in twenty years, Fred Weasley. Maybe we are strangers to each other. Both of us, in places we never expected us to be at this time in our lives._

 _Whether this letter is a success or whether it's an absolute failure, Fred - I miss you. Angelina misses you. George misses you. The world misses you._

 _You are missed. And you are loved._

 _Always._

 _Alicia._

* * *

"Always." George murmured. One word could mean so much.

"Always."


	56. Madame Maxime's Letter

**A/N: Hey guys. Here's another chapter. I probably won't be updating as much as I'd like, and I know I haven't updated almost at all with my other stories, and I'm super sorry about that. Hope this makes up for that. Besides, this story is almost over...**

 **Please review! Each one means the world to me.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

There were maybe six letters left in the box. George was tempted to take them all out, tear the cardboard menace to shreds, scatter the opened letters all over the room, and hide the few that remained. If he didn't finish, this never ended, right? Fred would never end, and he, George, could continue on with his brother in his ear? Right?

 _Wrong._

George Weasley sighed. Yeah. Wrong. He had to finish. And when he did, he would put all the letters neatly back in that damn box. And he'd go sit with his wife and kids, his brothers and sisters, his Mum and Dad and let them laugh and smile and hold his hand and pat his head. He would let them know he knew what they had said, show his understanding and love by letting them in, instead of shutting them out. He'd open up again, be the George Weasley that disappeared and died with his twin twenty years ago. George knew that's what he had to do. It was what he was going to do….soon. But not yet.

 _So close, brother. Only a few more to go._

"Why are you doing this to me?" George whispered. "What's going to happen when I finish?"

 _Why do you think something's going to happen?_

"Because I know you, Fred." George's voice cracked. "I've known you my entire life, and this wouldn't be happening if there wasn't some grand finale lying in store for me."

 _Geez, you are so melodramatic. What, everything's gotta have a punchline for you?_

"We're kind of in the business of punchlines, mate."

 _Hardy-har-har. Got me in stitches here, George._

"Wouldn't be the first time."

 _Ouch. I remember that. And if I recall correctly, it was your fault._

"Not denying it."

 _Wow._

 _"_ But if I also recall correctly, you paid me back in full about a month later during Quidditch practice remember? Rogue Bludger, my arse."

 _Hey, it really was an accident._

"And so was mine!"

 _And then we both spent the first month of second year with bandages around our stomachs and Madam Pomfrey breathing down our necks._

"Yeah." George reminisced. "What a way to start the year. And that wasn't even some of our best stuff, yet, too. We were just beginning, the two of us."

 _The two of us. You and me against the world, huh?_

"Always."

And it was the truth. Growing up in the Burrow, they had really only ever had each other. Sure, Mum and Dad had done their best and loved them more than anything else in the world, but in a family as large as theirs, sometimes, kids were going to be slighted. It was never out of neglect, however. George had never once felt less than blessed or loved or lucky for his wacky, overtly large family. But Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already a handful by the time the twins were born, and then two years later came Ron, and then another year brought Ginny, the much sought after daughter. Seven kids and Fred and George had been stuck right in the middle. Or Fred had, really, being the first one born out of the two of them. And Mum and Dad had given each and every one of them all they possibly could - so it was never a want for things or love and attention that led to them being on their own. Perhaps it was a twin thing - their bond that defined them, even as children.

But as time went on, with Bill's Curse-Breaking career and Charlie's affinity for dragons and danger (and lack of any steady or meaningful relationship, which was always a point of concern for their mother) and Percy's high maintenance and then came Ron, the adventurer, the troublemaker, the introverted boy who somehow became a hero of a war, part of the Golden Trio, and then there was Ginny, who lived up to the fiery nature of redheads and whose temper had gotten her into as much trouble as the twins on a daily basis and who could out-Hex anyone her age. So with all of the chaos that was the Weasley household on a daily basis, Fred and George sometimes had to make do with just themselves. And sure, maybe that started an unhealthy issue of severe codependency. It was a likely explanation for how, whenever one of them was separated from the other, it felt like a cold knife piercing their chests.

Okay, so maybe George still had some codependency issues. It had been twenty years and he was still carrying that knife inside of him, the chill of isolation, despite his family rallying around him. Even now, as he lay in bed next to his wife, George would wake up in the dead of night, reaching for his brother who hadn't been in the bed beside him for half his life now. He would catch his reflection in a passing mirror and forget for a second, already turning to call out to his brother before remembering and the pain would wash afresh over him. A thousand little things every day that had him turning in circles because it seemed that no matter how much time passed, he couldn't seem to function like he used to - when he had Fred.

 _We're twins. Being codependent isn't all that weird, George._

"It is when you're dead and I'm still codependent. It's not healthy or normal, Fred."

 _Mate. When have we ever done things healthily or normally? Seriously?_

That was a fair point, George admitted to himself. Out of their siblings, he and Fred had always had a tendency for the disgusting, the strange, the stressful, and of course, the unnatural. Nine times out of ten, they made themselves physically sick over what they were experimenting. So yeah, even their hobbies had been a little more than odd growing up. And honestly, George wouldn't have it any other way.

 _Me either._

George smiled softly at the tone in his brother's voice as he reached for the next letter. It was larger than the others - not by much, but even holding the envelope (which was a pale robin's egg blue) George could tell it was almost double in size. George scanned his mind, trying to remember whose letters he had already read, and who from his past could possibly be left to write to Fred.

 _Come on, George. Think outside the box._

"Hilarious." George rolled his eyes. "But honestly….I have no idea who this could be. I mean - the letter is huge - I already read Hagrid's. Plus, he at least uses normally sized parchment so it wouldn't have been him in any case. And there's really no one else…."

 _No one?_

A name danced on the tip of his tongue, but George wanted to see the signature for himself. He hadn't spoken to her in almost - actually, George couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to Olympe Maxime - or Madame Maxime in the time he had met her. Merlin…that had been way back when he and Fred were still at school - during that awful Triwizard Tournament.

Despite the time that had passed, and the lack of time George had spent remembering the Headmistress of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, George could picture the giantess with remarkable ease. She had been…a large woman, to say the least. George remembered how he and Fred had gaped, alongside hundreds of other students, at the remarkable size of that woman which left Hagrid standing only at her chest - and Hagrid was half a giant! Madame Maxime must have been half or more than half to have reached the height and girth that she did.

 _Fleur and Gabrielle were their students, remember?_

He didn't, not really. Fleur didn't really speak of her education at Beauxbatons so much, and the Tournament hadn't exactly been a fun experience for her - or Ron, Hermione, Harry or Gabrielle for that matter. People had been hurt - Cedric had been murdered - and Voldemort had risen again, and the year that followed had been a hard one preceding the impending war that came howling after them like a vicious Grimm. Those last two years he and Fred had spent at Hogwarts were dark, and George remembered the feeling of suffocation that hadn't fully evaporated until they had set foot in their new home and business in Diagon Alley.

But that had almost nothing to do with the here and now, with Olympe Maxime's very large letter in his hands. He took care to peel the white seal (shaped like a winged horse) away from the envelope and slid the letter out. In all fairness, it seemed that only the envelope was oversized. The parchment itself was seemingly average, and as he unfolded the letter, George didn't notice any other oddities. In fact, he didn't see anything that might warrant the need for such an auspicious cover.

 _Maybe it's a French thing._

"Hm." George mused.

* * *

 _Monsieur Weasley,_

 _We have never quite met, I believe. All I know is what my dear Hagrid has told me, and I will say, there is quite a lot. Had you been at Beauxbatons, there is no way you would have ever seen your third year, let alone your seventh with the antics you seem to be always up to. But again, Dumbledore had always been more lenient than me._

 _Anyways, Fleur wrote to me a few weeks ago explaining what your mother was planning. I do keep in touch with her and her sister now and again, and it is easier now that my relationship with Hagrid has finally come to steady waters. Fleur was one of my favorite students, you know, and the champion chosen for our school. She always was a promising girl._

 _I had actually often written to Fleur to ask if she would be interested in coming back to Beauxbatons as a guest professor, teach a studies class or two, perhaps on the cultural differences from France to England, or even in Potions, where she was indeed gifted. But every time, she refused. Always thanked me kindly, but still, refused the positions of high esteem which I offered her. And I never quite realized why until she wrote me again._

 _It is a true blessing to find your family in this world, whether by blood or by your heart. Hagrid and I, we never had a proper family. Our parents, of course, meaning his mother and my father, were giants while our other parents were of the wizarding kind. Now, you must know the general response the world has to giants, so that information was never revealed to anyone, by either of us. And I know it seems foolish - what other normal witch or wizard is twelve feet tall? But still - it was a necessity to ensure our survival. Giants are persecuted and half-giants ridiculed and treated almost as bad as house-elves in the eyes of wizards._

 _My mother did her best to raise me, but she was so terrified of the repercussions of my heritage that when I turned seventeen, she killed herself out of fear and shame. Despite her kindness of waiting until I was of legal age to take care of myself, it traumatized me into believing that my blood was a curse. Hagrid's father died of natural causes, but with his expulsion and the ridicule, he got for being odd…well, needless to say, neither of us really had the family we wanted. So I never understood Fleur's reasoning for staying in England so long when her friends and family all resided in France. She knew no one where she was, had no safety, no way to comfort herself. She was all alone in a place where she would be the odd one out. But now I see._

 _She had found her heart's family. I told you, it's a blessing to find it. The family of your heart are the ones you were meant to find in this life and stay connected to forever more. When Fleur Delacour met Bill Weasley, she met her heart family. By extension, that means all of you, as well. I've been told you Weasley's are a rather large bunch, especially now with all of you procreating like rabbits._

 _I did hear about the wedding, though I, myself, was unable to attend. Fleur wrote to me directly, told me the joyous news and explained that she could not leave her family to teach, nor could she uproot them from their home there in England. And it took me some time to understand. It was my understanding that if her new family loved her enough, they would let her choose her own path and follow suit. Surely….but I had gotten it wrong. She was following her own path - and it was with all of you._

 _I'm rambling, I know. It's the French in me, to speak eloquently. But I think I've made my point._

 _You are Fleur's family. Her heart family. The one she found, all on her own, and the one which accepted her. You and your family gave her a life the likes of which she never could have had in France. One of adventure and love. And it is because I adore her that I write this letter to you, Monsieur Fred Weasley, to say thank you._

 _Merci beaucoup,_

 _Olympe Maxime_

* * *

George had to read her letter a few times before anything sunk in. It was more about Fleur than about Fred if anything.

 _In her defense, we never actually had any contact with Madame Giantess. It was the best she could do._

"Yeah," George said. "I suppose. And she did thank you, in the end there. For accepting Fleur into the family, though that's one of your lesser heroic acts, I might add."

 _I think this was one of my greats. Yours too, George._

"How so?"

 _We were all pretty nasty to Fleur when Bill first brought her around seriously. Mum was the worst, but we all were idiots. Fleur had to deal with all of us in order to be with the man she loved. I think us accepting her into our very tight-knit family was a huge step. I mean, the girl is part Veela. She can't have many people who genuinely like her because they want to, not because she charmed them._

"We accepted Harry and Hermione…"

 _Harry was a part of this family the second he and Ron were friends. And you know Mum's a freaking bleeding heart. Second, she knew how bad the Dursley's were treating him, he was like a stray puppy she just had to take in. And this was years before he and Ginny started to have a thing. And Hermione was like another daughter to Mum, again, years before she and Ron even thought of being together._

"So?"

 _So we never thought twice about them, about how we felt about them. Ron brought two people into our already large family and we accepted them immediately. But the second Bill does the same, we ridicule her. So maybe it was a bigger deal than we thought when we finally put it all aside and started treating Fleur like a sister._

George thought about that. So many people had been changed and affected in the course of his and Fred's lives, many more than he had ever been aware of. Here was Madame Maxime, someone with whom he never had a conversation, writing to tell him how their bringing Fleur into their family was something wonderful. George had never thought it to be anything but natural. She was Bill's wife - and because he had loved Bill with all his heart, and Fred, he knew was the same - they gave her a chance.

 _Sometimes a chance is what really matters._

"Like the chance you never got," George said. "The chance to live the rest of your life with us? With a family of your own?"

 _I did get that chance, George. It might have been short, but I got that chance. And you know what?_

'What?"

 _I loved every minute of it._


	57. Mr Ollivander's Letter

**A/N: Hey friends! I have some downtime during my rehearsal here, so I decided to do some kind of an update. Here you go! This is relatively short, but I'm pressed for time and inspiration.**

 **Please please please please review!**

* * *

"Five left." George said. "Five. How can there only be five left?"

 _Well, you just read one, and about fifty-eight before that, so it makes sense that by now you'd have almost finished._

"I didn't mean it literally, you git. I meant…" George didn't know what he meant. "I meant that after everything…after twenty - one years of life together, and twenty after that, and fifty-eight letters….how does it all come down to five now? What's after the _after?"_

 _Are you still on this? George, seriously man, you've got to let that alone. There isn't an answer I can give you…at least, not right now. That's the best I can do, mate._

"But why?" George whined, and suddenly he sounded twenty years younger - maybe thirty. He sounded like he used to when the world revolved around Fred and their mum's homemade fudge. "Why can't you tell me? Why's it such a big secret, huh? You know what we used to say about secrets -"

 _Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless they're shared with everyone. Yea,h I remember. But I still can't tell you, Georgie. I'm sorry._

"Fred -"

 _It's not against you, if that helps. It's not about you at all, actually. It's just….something you'll find out on your own. One day._

"When I die, you mean."

There was no response from Fred, which was an answer in itself. George sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

 _You need to reach the end, George. The last letter….it's important that you read it._

"Wait, what do you mean 'the last letter'?" George said quickly. "You mean there was - is - an actual order to the letters? How?"

 _Magic. Duh._

"Duh, he says." George mocked. "Duh. Like magic is obviously the answer."

 _For us, it usually is._

"Touche."

 _Not even. Just pointing out the facts._

George reached into the box and shuffled them around a bit before pulling one out. Four left, after this one. And there was nothing special about it, either. Just a plain, tan envelope with a wax seal - though it wasn't a Hogwarts seal, or a Beauxbatons one either. This was a wax seal with the emblem of a wand shooting stars from the tip. Immediately, he knew who had written Fred. He recognized the emblem- had seen it his entire life, every time he was in Diagon Alley, there it was, swinging just down the street from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Ollivanders. Mr. Ollivander.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Fred Weasley,_

 _I remember every wand - and subsequently every witch and wizard - that's come through my shop. Every single one. Some memories are harder to reach than others - they become foggy in my old age. But some memories are clear as day. The memories of you and your brother are the few that remain as vivid as if I had poured them in a Pensieve._

 _It was a relatively pleasant day at the end of August, though I don't know if that is correct or not. My shop tends to get a little stuffy, what with the thousands and thousands of boxes of wands I have piled on every wall, on every chair and across the floor - I have a system, mind you, it's not just chaos. It's organized chaos. Anyways, warm day in August, and even warmer in my shop. I was busy rearranging my new stock of eleven inch hornbeam wands (a mixture of unicorn hair core and dragon heartstring) somewhere in the back of my shop, when my nifty little bell started ringing in the front of my store. I didn't hurry - where else were they going to go? And I've never feared thieves - the wand chooses the wizard, remember, not the other way around._

 _So I took my time getting to the front. But as I got closer, the more voices I heard and I was momentarily confused. The bell only rang once, but it sounded like a small crowd had gathered in the front of my store - and then I came out of the side aisle and I did see a small crowd, with hair like fire during a sunset._

"Ah. The Weasley's." _I said, and your mother stepped forward, beaming, as always, although looking rather frazzled. She had all seven of you grouped together right in the front, there, and your older brothers didn't look too happy about that. Perhaps that was what you were talking about before I made my own frazzled appearance._

"Mr. Ollivander." _Molly was always a delightful girl as a girl, and she never lost that motherly charm of hers._ "How delightful to see you."

"Molly. Holly, twelve and three quarter inches, slightly springy, unicorn hair core. What may I do for you today?" _I said. Delightful woman, your mother._

"Two new wands today, Mr. Ollivander. My middles. Fred, George, come forward, dears."

 _I watched the two of you step forward. You both had been hiding behind your oldest brother, Bill. I remember all this, clear as day, remember. Bill Weasley (hawthorn, thirteen inches, Phoenix tail core) looked just as your mother did that day - proud. He enjoyed being a big brother, and knowing him later in life as I do now confirms that. He thought the world of you two back then, and he does to this day. I remember he pushed you two forward and one of you (since this was before I found you wands, I couldn't tell you which of the two of you it was) turned around to push back and accidentally hit your other older brother Percy (ten inches, stiff and strong birch wood, also Phoenix core)._

 _I say again, I remember this so very clearly. I had been watching Weasley's come into my shop for years, and with the seven of you, it was years more - and now with the vast array of children and grandchildren, you lot have, my own son and I serve even more Weasleys! I remember your father, Arthur, holding your youngest sister Ginny and your younger brother Ron in his arms (the two of them only about eight or nine) and your second eldest brother Charlie laughing off to the side (his was one of my favorite wands I ever saw, fourteen inches, holly wood with dragon heartstring - and from his chosen career, it was indeed a rather fitting match). Your mother took a few minutes to snap at all of you and sort you lot out before bringing the two of you to my counter._

 _Identical in every way, the two of you. Fred and George. Even your excited nervous glares at me matched completely. However, for all of your sameness, I knew that your wands would be entirely different, for many reasons. Firstly, no two wands are ever made the same. They may have the same materials, sure, but they will not be of the same temperament. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard. Secondly, as is with wands, it is also that no two people ever have the same temperament, even twins._

 _George - for you were the one I studied first - you found your wand right away. Twelve and a half inches, ash, with unicorn tail hair core. Light and springy and perfect for a practical prankster like yourself. Your family behind you was so proud when the sparks and stars shot from the tip of your new wand. I wish you could have seen their looks. But instead, you looked to your brother._

 _Fred Weasley - now you were more difficult. I said before, twins, like wands, have different temperaments. That is not a bad thing, only something to be considered. While George found his wand nearly immediately, you took several more tries. Three, four wands passed through your hands and yet none of them were perfect. Clearly, you were more complex than what deemed a surface glance, even at eleven years old. And finally, I found it, just as you were getting discouraged._

 _Now, in my line of work, there isn't much that can take me by surprise. Everyone and every wand is different. But there have been times…when young Tom Riddle came into my shop so many decades ago, I noticed his wand's core had a twin. That was a surprise. Phoenix's rarely give two feathers, so I wondered, for years, who would get the pair. And when that other wizard turned out to be Harry Potter….I was shocked. But that's in all of my years as a wand maker. I don't surprise easily. But what I never told you - what I never really told anyone was that you, Fred Weasley, were a surprise indeed._

 _Thirteen inches, very springy but with some small resistance and strength of its own, made of acacia wood and with threstal hair core. Interesting, very interesting. First off, the threstal core is one of the most powerful cores, after Phoenix. This is mainly because the only way to gather the hair for the core is to physically gather it from the Threstals themselves, which can only be accomplished once you achieve the sight._

 _And acacia wood - well, anyone who isn't a wand maker wouldn't know this, but lucky for you, that's exactly what I am. Acacia wood is a very unusual wand wood. The wood is tricky, and also very loyal, often refusing to perform spells for anyone other than their owner. But even more so, the acacia wood holds a lot of power, effects and capabilities that it withholds even from its owner unless they prove they are gifted. It's temperamental and complex, and it immediately sparked and shone the second I placed It in your hands, Fred. Interesting._

 _Once again, your family behind you was so pleased - practically everyone besides your youngest siblings was beaming at the two of you - but the two of you were only beaming at each other._

 _It's a tragedy you were taken from us all so soon, Mr. Weasley. I was certain I could have expected great things from you and your brother - greater than the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes empire. And we are left without._

 _May you be in a happy place, and may your family's lives still have magic in them,_

 _Yours,_

 _Mr. Garrick Ollivander_


End file.
